Happily Never After
by L3ftOfCent3r
Summary: Jefferson had lost many people in his life...all stolen away by magic. But when the curse breaks and magic comes to Storybrooke, he seeks out the unlikely help of the sheriff to right those who have wronged him. MadSwan.
1. The Price of Magic

**A/N: The majority of this story will take place in Storybrooke, post-curse, but some chapters will be in Fairytale Land, exploring some the mysteries of Jefferson: His wife, his knowledge of Belle/Rumpelstiltskin, and first and foremost, how he came to acquire such a magical hat... **

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Prologue

_Fast-forward to 2 weeks after the curse breaks..._

Emma Swan stood on Jefferson's porch, her fist raised to knock on the door, but she hesitated. Memories of drugged tea and scarfs and hats and a gun pointed in her face raced through her mind. It was only the house that brought back those memories. There were more recent memories that came to her mind whenever she thought of Jefferson... Emma shut her eyes as she took a deep calming breath, and suddenly, the door in front of her opened.

Jefferson swallowed at the sight of her standing on his porch and his heart pounded in excitement.

"Emma," he breathed her name and he realized just how much he had missed saying it.

Hope welled-up inside of his chest. It was the kind of hope he had felt when—after decades—he had finally heard his daughter call him "papa" again. Jefferson stared at the blonde woman on his doorstep. Her lips were parted and her eyes were wide as she looked into his. The moment seemed to last forever. Emma was choosing her words carefully before she spoke them and Jefferson decided that it was best not to speak. He knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness. He didn't even know if she had come to forgive him. He knew better than to hope things like that. Jefferson had lost a lot of people throughout his life, but Emma Swan was the only one he stood to lose because of his own stupidity—his own _madness_. He didn't want to lose Emma. He was tired of losing. He had lost enough.

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Chapter 1: The Price of Magic

_Roughly 20 years before the curse..._

A cottage-shaped wagon, inscribed with the words "Seymour the Spellbinder", rolled to a stop at the edge of a busy town-square. Its door, like two ornate shudders, flew open, suddenly, and an eager-eyed little boy stepped-out onto the wagon's porch. An over-sized top hat sat on his head and a wide grin was pasted on his face as he glanced around at all the busy townsfolk. With a deep breath, the boy reached up and gripped the brim of his hat, holding it securely on to his head as he jumped from the wagon.

"Jefferson!" a concerned, maternal voice called after him, "Don't you wander too far!"

"Yes, mama!" the boy shouted before running off into the crowd.

Jefferson dodged passed the clutter of people, even ducking between the long legs of one man as he ran about, exploring his new temporary home. The boy came to a stop once he reached a clearing in the center of town. His grin grew wider as he glanced around at the passing people—people who did not even spare him a glance. Jefferson performed his hat tricks, then, tumbling the hat down his arm and then back on to his head again. The top hat flew into the air, rolled down his back, and was tossed under his leg. A few passersby stopped to watch the little boy and his amusing hat tricks, but Jefferson barely noticed. For his last trick, he spun the hat on his finger, keeping up the momentum as he quickly rotated the hat with his free hand. A gust of wind blew passed him followed by the end of a cloak that knocked the hat from his finger.

"Hurry along Regina! We haven't got all day!"

Jefferson watched the two women fly by as he bent down to pick up his hat. In her haste to catch-up, the smaller of the two dropped an object on to the ground—a shiny object. Jefferson flipped the top hat back on to his head and ran after the women.

"Wait!" he cried, "You dropped your—"

A shiny ring laid at his feet as he bent down to pick it up. It sparkled with an inner light that held the little boy captivated, momentarily, until he glanced-up at the woman standing before him.

"Your ring," he said with a grin as he held it up to her.

The woman was beautiful and dark with her rich, chestnut hair and her long black cloak. A smaller version of the woman stood by her side carrying a small jewelry box. She wasn't a woman at all, Jefferson noticed; she was a girl—a girl only a few years older than he. The woman's suspicious expression quickly turned into a smile.

"Why, thank you, child," she spoke as she took the ring from him, "What a noble deed!"

Jefferson flashed her a broad grin, bowed his head, and then started to skip away.

"Boy!" she called after him and he turned around, "I noticed your hat performance. Where did you learn such tricks?"

"My papa!" Jefferson was all too happy to reply, "He's a magician! He taught me a lot of things!"

"How wonderful!" the woman exclaimed with too much enthusiasm to be genuine and the girl standing beside her yawned in boredom.

"May I see your hat?"

The boy thought about it for a moment and then rolled the hat down his arm before cautiously handing it to the woman.

"What a magnificent hat," she said as she gently held it in her hands, "Did your father make this hat?"

Jefferson shook his head.

"My mama made it—but I sewed the lining!"

"Did you, really?" the woman sounded amazed, "What is your name, boy?"

He told her his name, and she smiled kindly in response.

"You're going to grow-up to be a very talented man, someday, Jefferson,." The woman paused as she examined the hat for a moment, and the next words that came from her lips weren't meant to be heard: "Talented people are always useful."

"Hold this, Regina," she ordered as she handed the hat to the girl.

Regina scowled at it as if it were something contagious and Jefferson noticed.

"Hey—" he started to complain.

"Jefferson," the woman spoke as she bent down to look into his blue-gray eyes, "I'm going to give you a special gift. You deserve a gift for returning my ring to me—few people would have done the same."

Jefferson looked cautiously between the woman and the girl named, Regina.

"What kind of a gift?"

The woman smiled, pleased.

"I'm going to give your hat magic—real magic! Your hat will have the power to take you to other worlds, but only you will know how to make it work."

"How?" Jefferson asked, his eyes wide with eagerness.

"That will be for you to discover. You and you alone. It is your hat."

Jefferson nodded and looked away, his little eyebrows knitting together as he thought, and then—

"Okay!"

The woman nodded in-kind and held her hand out towards Regina. The girl gave her mother the hat and then wiped her hands on to the skirt of her dress as if the hat had gotten them dirty. Noticing it, Jefferson frowned.

"Hello, hat." the woman said as she held it before her and winked at Jefferson.

He watched with interest as the woman began to whisper strange words inside of the hat, words he didn't understand. Then, all-of-a-sudden, a burst of light emanated from it and the townsfolk who were passing by stopped in their tracks at such a spectacle.

"What a wonderful trick!" the woman quickly examined as a cover for her sorcery.

Some of the people clapped in response. Jefferson smiled at the applause as the woman gave him the hat back.

"Now you must take great care of this hat, understand?"

"Oh, yes! I will—I mean, I do! I already promised my mama and papa that I would."

"Good boy," she said as she patted him on his head, "Run along home now, and remember—the magic of the hat is for _you_ to discover. You and you _alone_."

Jefferson carefully placed the over-sized hat on top of his head and it sunk down, covering the tops of his ears.

"Yes, miss. I'll remember."

The woman stared at him for a moment as if to memorize his young face and then she turned on her heel, causing her cloak to whip around her. She walked off and the girl was slow to follow.

"Come along, now, Regina."

Regina glanced back over her shoulder at the little boy with the big hat before the two women disappeared into the crowd. Jefferson reached up and ran his fingers along the brim of his hat, smiling in excitement at the magic it was said to posses. He couldn't wait to tell his mother and father! The boy ran back to the wagon then, dodging passed the townsfolk and holding his hat onto his head in fear that it might fly off. He was panting when he reached his home and he quickly climbed the metal steps to get inside.

"Mama! Papa! My—"

"Look what I found, Jefferson," his mother interrupted as he enter the wagon, "Mushrooms! What a treat!"

His mother was a lovely blonde-haired woman with sky-blue eyes that crinkled the tiniest bit at the corners when she smiled. Her smile, Jefferson was sure, could light up the world if all other lights went out. The boy was still panting, his heart pounding in excitement as he noticed the large mushrooms that sat on a plate in front of her at the table. She would stuff them with bread crumbs and herbs and serve them for dinner—this, Jefferson was sure.

"Mama, my—"

"Hello, son," his father greeted as he pulled back the colorful curtain that served as a door into his bedroom, "Did you catch any coins for your striking, stupefying, stroke of stagecraft?"

The boy smiled at the silly way his father spoke as the man lovingly placed a hand on his sons cheek. His father's features were darker than his mothers. The man's brown hair was flecked with gray at his temples and he had a whimsical mustache that curled at the ends. His father, the great _Seymour the Spellbinder_, was a kind man with a taste for the eccentric.

"No, papa," Jefferson replied, "I didn't, but look!"

The boy took off his hat and held it out to his father.

"I picked up a ring that a townswoman had dropped, and in return, she made my hat _magic_!"

Seymour the Spellbinder raised a curious eyebrow at his son and then took the hat in his hands, slowly turning it around to examine it. Jefferson was beaming as he waited for his father to witness the magic of the hat, but it didn't happen.

"Some magic materializes momentarily, and other times, only at the magician's manufacturing."

Seymour handed the hat back to his son. The magic of the hat, Jefferson remembered, was for him to discover alone. He was the magician now and the magic was for him to manufacture. Jefferson glanced-up at his father, who smiled warmly down at him, and then, as if the boy knew just how to make the hat work—Jefferson placed the bottom of the hat atop his finger and spun it. A great whirlwind overtook the inside of the small wagon as the hat spun at an inhumanly fast pace. Jefferson's hands gripped on to it, spinning with it around and around and then off of the floor until he and the hat reached the ceiling. His parents yelled-out and Jefferson cried as the entire floor of the small wagon opened-up into a black abyss below his dangling feet. His parents were sucked into the hole, screaming and calling out his name. Jefferson, terrified, held on the hat, listening as his parents voices grew fainter and fainter. His face was streaked with horror cried tears and his heart sunk into his stomach. The voices of his mother and father were silent then, and all-to-quickly, the floor below him closed-up and he and the hat fell to the floor. Jefferson laid there, clawing and pounding on the wooden boards, sobbing for his disappeared mother and father as their terrified faces burned into his memory.

When some townsfolk came at the sound of his wails and picked him up from the floor, his finger tips were bloodied from digging at the wooden boards. Jefferson managed to grab for the hat before they scoped him up. He stared deep inside of it as hands carried him off, and he knew, somehow, that his mother and father were inside of that hat—in another world. He had done this to them. _You and you alone. _He remembered the woman's words, but he hadn't listened. Jefferson knew in that moment what he had to do. At the young age of nine, Jefferson already knew what his purpose in life would be—he would spend it discovering the mysteries of the hat until he was reunited with his parents again. He would find them, he told himself, and then would make sure never to lose a loved one to the hat ever again...


	2. Bittersweet Recognitions

Chapter 2: Bittersweet Recognitions

His blood was still boiling as he went to retrieve his discarded clothes. Exposing one of Regina's well-guarded secrets had done little to sate his taste for revenge. Yet, by freeing the crooked wizard's truelove from her padded cell—Jefferson had disarmed Regina that much more. It was the least he could do after she refused to come through on her end of the bargain. _Again! _His mind kept taunting him. _Fooled again! _

"_After we're through I'll wake up your dear Grace so she remembers who you are," Regina had offered. _

"_No!" Jefferson had barked. "Remembering is the worst curse. Having two lives, like me. I want to forget. I want you to write us a new story. A fresh start. Here."_

"_Then, that's exactly what you'll have." She had lied._

Jefferson's fists clenched at his sides as he walked down the hallway to the place he had stashed his clothes. The baggy, white scrubs that clothed him—he pulled off angrily, leaving them in a pile on the floor. His own clothes, dark and slightly too grandiose for hospital attire, fitted close to his form, giving him an old world, aristocratic air—marred only by the fact that it was the 21st century. He moved quickly, then, through the empty hospital hallways, choosing the less traveled corridors as he neared an obscure exit. When Regina was done pretending to mourn the death of _Emma's_ son, she would find out about the Belle girl—she would come for him, but in this magic-less world...what was the worst she could do?

Jefferson walked-out into the alleyway behind the hospital and into the street. Hands in his pockets, he walked quickly through the daylight and passed the townsfolk until a series of _gasps_ stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, Jefferson glanced over his shoulder. People were standing in the streets, or on sidewalks, or sitting in cars—all with confusion on their faces. Suddenly, a flash of enlightenment changed their expressions and they turned to one another with a new kind of recognition. _Something was different. Something had changed. Emma had done it! She had broken the curse!_

Jefferson ran then. He ran down the street, taking turns where he needed to, until he arrived at the street where _his_ child lived. He stopped a few houses down from her illusive home. The racing of his heart from having run a few blocks was nothing. The pounding of his heart, as he saw his daughter run from her house, nearly threatened to beat its way out of his chest. He stopped moving.

"Grace." the name was a breathless whisper, too low for anyone to hear.

Yet, as if she had heard it, her searching eyes found his and she took a step forward. Jefferson exhaled a jagged breath as his daughter _saw_ him for the first time in decades!

"Papa!" she cried-out as she ran towards him and all he could do was fall to his knees, a hapless mess.

His eyes burned with tears and his jaw clenched as he swallowed back a sob. _Too long. So, so long he waited for this moment._ The girl crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheeks as she cried. Jefferson gently gripped the tops of her arms as he carefully, so carefully, pushed her back to see her tear stained face. His own eyes were red and wet, but his mouth was a hard controlled line.

"I—I'm _so_ sorry, Grace," he said through his teeth as her pulled her against him, kissing her forehead.

"Oh, papa," she cried, wrapping her arms tightly around him, "Don't apologize. We're together now!"

His jaw clenched tight and his heart broke a little more at his sweet daughter's forgiveness. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be holding her again.

"I should have never left you," he breathed into her hair as he held her close, feeling a tear travel down his cheek, "You were right, Grace—all we needed was each other. Nothing more."

He pushed her back again so he could look into her sweet brown eyes—so much like her mothers.

"I promise," he said through clenched teeth and angry tears, "I promise to always remember that! I promise never to leave you again. You're all I need. As long as we're together—everything will be fine."

Screams echoed in the distance, then, and Jefferson felt his heart drop to his stomach. He wrapped his arms tightly and protectively around his daughter as he stared-off down the street. A thick purple cloud was overtaking the town. It reeked of magic and foreshadowed of doom. He stared down at his Grace, knowing that there was no way to outrun this.

"Papa?" he questioned and the panic in her voice filled him with a hatred for whoever had unleashed this new spell.

"Close you eyes," he told her just before the cloud covered them, coating them in something that felt familiar like a warm blanket...magic.

They both took-in deep breaths, gulping it down as if it were fresh air—this new twisted spell. Jefferson knew right away what it was and he knew right away the danger that it possessed to him and his daughter. He held her a little tighter as if it would be the last time and then the cloud passed.

"What was that, papa?" she asked as she looked up at his face all innocent and sweet.

He sighed as his blue-gray eyes looked into her brown ones.

"Something dangerous," he replied before swallowing down the hard lump that had risen in his throat.

He lifted Grace against his chest then, as he stood from his kneeling position to his feet.

"We'll never be safe as long as we're in this world," he told her as he carried her in his arms

There was no point in lying to her now that he had promised to never leave her. With magic, Regina would have all the power she could ever want at her disposal and she would be gunning for him. She would gunning for them both when she found out that Belle was missing. To make matters worse—Regina had his hat!

"Grace," he spoke as he looked at her, seriously, his forehead nearly touching hers, "Do you remember asking me if I knew the queen?"

She nodded her head.

"I told you that I didn't," he paused as his eyebrows lowered remorsefully, "I lied. I had met her many times before she had come to our cottage. She's evil, Grace. I can't take you home. She'll find us there. We have to go somewhere else—some place, at least, marginally safe..."

"Where papa?" Grace asked, curiously, as he walked down the street, carrying her.

Jefferson ground his teeth together as he thought-up an answer. He had been mulling over the idea since he had first realized what the purple cloud meant. He sighed his frustration and then smiled at his daughter.

"Where do people go in this world when they need help and protection?"

Grace tilted her head and squinted her eyes as she looked at her father.

"The sheriff's office?"

Jefferson gave another sigh and pressed his forehead to his daughters as he nodded.

"The sheriff_._"


	3. Unearned Trust

Chapter 3: Unearned Trust

The front door had been left unlocked. It was not an uncommon occurrence in Storybrooke, or in any small town where everyone knew everyone. Yet, Jefferson was surprised that it had been so easy. Everything had been "not-easy" for so long that he just expected everything to be complicated. Maybe, he even needed complication...

"This feels wrong, papa," Grace muttered as she followed him into the house that Emma had disbelievingly shared with her mother for months.

He flicked-on the light switch, illuminating the kitchen, and then bent down to cup his hand to his daughter's cheek.

"It is wrong," he admitted as he looked into her brown eyes, "But we have good intentions. Besides," Jefferson paused to flash Grace a mischievous smile, "The door was unlocked."

Grace smiled back and wrapped her arms around her fathers waist. She was worried about his decision to just walk into someone's house uninvited, and not just _anyone's_ house—but the sheriff's house! Grace was afraid of losing him again. Jefferson could see it in her eyes.

"Come here," he said as he lifted her from the floor and carried her across the room to a bar stool, "Everything will be fine. Here, I want you to sit right here. This way—you will be the first person they see when they come home. No one could be frightened by your sweet face."

Grace nodded and Jefferson leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"Where will you be?" she asked as he pulled away.

Jefferson pointed an arm towards the door as he walked towards it, and then, he pressed his back to the wall where the door would swing.

"I'll be right here."

Grace tilted her head at her father as she gave him a disapproving look.

"You're the one who's going to frighten them."

Jefferson smiled.

"It's for the best, Grace. The last time Emma saw me she—well, let's just say I'd rather have my back to a wall than turned to her."

Before Grace could respond, the sound of voices behind the front door had Jefferson raising a finger to his lips to silence his daughter.

"Can I make you a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"No."

"Hot chocolate with cinnamon?"

"No, Emma. We have to talk about what's hap—"

The front door opened and a very healthy Henry was the first to walk in, toting his book of stories. Putting two-and-two together, Jefferson decided that whatever had cured Henry had obviously fixed the curse.

"Paige?" the boy sounded surprised.

"It's Grace," she corrected him with a smile, "I'm glad you're better, Henry. Oh... Hello, Sheriff Swan."

"...Emma," the blonde woman corrected in-turn as she walked into the room, "What—"

Jefferson closed the door behind them and Emma jumped in response, causing her hand to fly to her gun holster on instinct. Jefferson raised his hands in surrender and Emma's arms fell slack at her sides at the sight of him. The man with the intense gaze and the dark, elaborately patterned clothes—as if he were a circus ringmaster —was standing in her home!

"Jefferson," she breathed his name and a conflicting array of emotions overcame her.

Her heart was pounding furiously inside of her chest and she didn't know whether she should point her gun at him...or offer him some tea? Jefferson kept a straight composure as he recognized her internal battle.

"Henry," he addressed the boy for the first time, "Why don't you take Grace into Emma's room and show her your book?"

Henry glanced between Emma and the man he had never seen before. Regardless of the fact that he was "Grace's" dad, Emma's reaction to him made him wary. Jefferson smiled at the boy, admiring him for it, and Henry did as he was asked—disappearing with Grace into another room. Jefferson walked towards Emma then, breaching the distance between them slowly as he tested her for a reaction.

"You were right," she said and his feet stopped moving, "Fairytale's aren't just stories. They're not just the product of someones wild imagination—they're true. Completely true!"

Emma stared at the man who had drugged her, gagged her, pointed a gun at her, and kidnapped her frien—mother? Yet, it had all been because he wanted his daughter back, and he had tried, so hard, to make Emma believe that it was all true. For a moment she tried to imagine what it had been like for him all this time. _What would it be like if Henry didn't remember who she was?_ Emma suddenly needed a chair, she needed to sit down.

"I didn't come here to say I told you so," Jefferson said as he followed Emma through the house until she found a couch to collapse on.

"What did you come here for then? Because I don't know if I handle anymore surprises today."

He stared down at her, noting the exhaustion on her face and he realized what all she had been through—getting a big dose of reality, nearly losing her son, et cetera et cetera.

"Well, I hate to tell you this, Emma," he said as he knelt down so that his eyes were level with hers, "But the surprises have only just begun."

As if on cue, the front door flew open.

"Emma?" a duo of voices—one feminine and one masculine—called out as the sounds of determined footfalls rushed into the room.

Emma's eyes grew wide and she stiffened on the couch as she recognized the voices. Jefferson, also, recognized the voices, and with a groan he stood to his feet, anticipating trouble.

"You..." Snow White spoke the moment she saw his face.

She stopped in her tracks as recognition hit her like a wrecking ball, and then her expression quickly turned into a sneer.

"YOU!" she hissed as she stormed towards him, but Prince James pulled her back, "How dare you come into our home! How dare you come near HER again!"

Snow White lunged forward at Jefferson, making the Prince work hard to hold her back.

"Whoa!" Emma exclaimed as she jumped-up from the couch, "His daughter is in the other room with Henry. Please, let's not shed blood in front of the kids!"

"Who is he?" the Prince demanded as he looked him over with distaste.

"My name is Jefferson. But I'm called the "Mad Hatter" by some..."

Jefferson shut his eyes, annoyed with himself for actually saying it, and when he opened them again he scowled.

"And what is your business with, Emma?" the prince asked, defensively, much like a father interrogating his young daughter's suitor.

A smirk tugged at Jefferson's lips at the thought and he glanced at the blonde woman who was already staring at him.

"My business is everyone's business," he replied as he held Emma's gaze, "To defeat Regina—only," he paused as he glanced around the house to the room Grace was in, "First, my daughter needs protection. We both do, actually, but considering our rocky past I don't expect you to actually welcome us with open arms."

"Damn right!" Snow spat at him, "You ARE mad if you think we'd let you stay here!"

Emma didn't agree. Somehow, she felt sympathy for him. She remembered reading Jefferson's story in Henry's book. He was just a poor, loving father that had been tricked by Regina. In the grand scheme of things—when it all came down to it—Jefferson had done no more harm to them, than "David" had done to "Mary Margaret". Emma stepped in front of Jefferson, protectively, and his straight posture sagged in confusion. _Was Emma defending him?_

"The two of you remember your lives in Storybrooke, right?" Emma asked and they easily nodded, "So you should remember the pain and heartache you caused one another," Emma's eyes turned on Snow White, "Then don't tell me that being tied to a damn chair was harder than that!"

Snow White jolted at her daughter's words as it struck a hard node of truth inside of her. She looked up at "David", remembering how much he had hurt her, remembering the drama and the scandal. _But it all had been in another life._ Snow told herself. _And certainly not in the one that mattered. _Snow White's gaze turned to Jefferson then, and she looked him up and down with a scowl on her face._  
_

"Emma, you can't seriously think of trusting this—this criminal! He kidnapped us! He drugged us!"

"AND I bashed him over the head with a telescope! And you kicked him out of a three-story window. I think we're square now."

Snow's eyebrows knitted together as she considered her words and then her eyes turned to Jefferson.

"How _did_ you come out of that fall unscathed?"

Jefferson quirked a smile.

"I—"

Snow waved him off, silencing him.

"It doesn't matter. We need to speak with our daughter—alone."

Emma took a step back at the word "daughter" and she bumped into Jefferson's chest. He placed his hands at the top of her arms to steady her, and to his surprise she didn't shrink away.

"...daughter," Emma exhaled the word as she looked at the man and woman standing before her.

Her pulse began to accelerate again. She spent twenty-eight years not knowing who her parents were—only to find out that they were Snow White and Prince Charming! To make it all the more confusing and just INSANE—they were about the same age as her. She had come to know them as "friends", calling them "mom and dad" was just pushing it! Emma had been pushed quite enough for one day.

"I know how hard this is for you," Snow White said as she took a step towards her daughter, "How strange it all is."

"Do you?" Emma questioned as her shoulders heaved with quick in-takes of breath, "Because I don't know of anyone else who found out that their parents are fairytale characters the same day that their son nearly died from a poisoned apple. _Hard?_ _Strange? _Those words don't exactly encapsulate what I'm feeling."

Snow raised her arms to her chest, clutching her hands together as if to plead or pray. High emotions gleamed in her eyes that threatened to spill down her cheeks and the sight of it affected Emma. Emma's bottom lip trembled as she saw the sadness on her friends face and she tried to hold back her own emotions. She didn't want to hurt her friend, she didn't want Mary Mar—Snow White? Emma let-out a sob.

"I mean—" her voice cracked with exhaustion and tears, "What am I supposed to call you, now?"

Snow opened her mouth to speak, but Emma continued on.

"Do I call you Mary Margaret? Snow White? Mom? What? This—this is all too much."

Emma felt dizzy then and she started panting-out breaths as if she were hyperventilating. Feeling faint, her stance wavered before Jefferson, and in one quick swoop, he lifted her off the floor and into his arms. Emma was too worn-out to protest this "mad" man from holding her. Besides, she felt pretty "mad" herself, and suddenly—being held felt really good. Jefferson's arms seemed to hold her together, just when she thought she could fall apart. Jefferson looked between Snow and the Prince as Emma curled into his chest.

"Do I have permission to carry her into her bedroom?"

Snow White scowled at him, but the Prince gave him a nod. That was enough for Jefferson to walk away from them, carrying Emma. He rolled his eyes in irritation as the couple followed closely behind him. _Did they really think that he would harm her? _Jefferson looked down at the blonde-head that was laying against his chest. Her eyes were resting shut, but a wrinkle in her forehead told him that she was in no way at rest.

"Papa!" Grace cried as she saw him carry the Sheriff into the room, "Is she alright?"

Jefferson looked to Henry who had been reading the book to his daughter.

"She's fine," he promised the children, "Just tired."

Henry and Grace hopped down from the bed, and Jefferson carefully laid Emma onto the mattress.

"'Grace', is it?" the former teacher asked from the doorway.

The girl smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Ms. Blanch—I mean, Snow White."

Snow gave the girl a small smile before her suspicious eyes turned on Jefferson, giving him a watchful look.

"Come with me, children," she said, "Let's see if we can find something good to cook."

Jefferson watched his daughter leave the room, followed by a woman who—he was positive—hated him. He sighed and looked to the other man standing in the room. The prince had his arms crossed over his chest as he suspiciously, examined the man known as the Mad Hatter.

"Why do you need protection?"

Jefferson straightened at the question.

"I took something from Regina. When she finds that it's missing. She'll come for me. And with all her powers back—it won't be too difficult."

The prince's eyebrows lowered in concentration as he considered the man's words.

"What did you take from her?"

Jefferson took a deep breath, not wanting to give that much away.

"Leverage," he replied, "But, what's more important is what she took from me. She has my hat. If we can get my hat back—we can stop Regina for good."

"Jefferson," Emma said his name and he glanced down at the tired woman.

Her eyes were heavy lidded as she stared-up at him. Jefferson knelt down so that she didn't have to crane her neck so much.

"Yes?" he asked as he searched her face, curiously.

"You and your daughter can stay here," she said, "But if you try anything funny—I'll deliver you to Regina myself!"

Jefferson grinned at her threat, and then traced an "X" over his heart with his finger.

"Cross my heart. No funny stuff."

Emma nodded her head and then clutched at her pillow, closing her eyes as she pressed her face into it. Jefferson stood to his feet then, and found that he was being watched. The Prince gave a meaningful jerk of his head towards the bedroom door, the exit. Jefferson smirked at him. _Prince James didn't want a strange man hanging around in his daughter's bedroom. _Jefferson respected that. He walked towards the door, stopping for a moment to look back at the blonde woman who was kinder than he deserved. After all, he had helped Regina retrieve the poisoned apple that had almost killed Henry. But Jefferson decided to keep that part to himself. He needed Emma Swan's trust—he needed it even though he didn't deserve it. And he knew that no one should ever put all their trust in him. Jefferson was a magnet for trouble. And somehow, he always managed to get people hurt, especially, when it wasn't his intention...


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole

**A/N: A big THANK YOU to everyone who has Alerted, Favorite(d) and/or Reviewed! It adds to the fun of writing this story, so thanks a lot!  
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**0:)  
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Chapter 4: Down the Rabbit Hole

People of all ages and statures gathered into the center of town to witness a great spectacle. A young man—a roaming magician—had left posters all over the town, claiming that his hat could open a portal into another universe. For the right price, he claimed that he could take a person on a short trip to another world. The posters had named a precise time and place to meet, and sure enough, people had come.

"This is a bunch of bollocks!" an old man grumbled.

"Do you think there's a world made of candy?" one child asked another with excitement on his face.

"They say he's _mad_," a woman gossiped, "And that—his poor wife lives in fear of 'em."

"I know!" another woman replied, " And, to make matters worse they have a baby!"

The people went silent as a man wearing an eccentric, orange-colored coat walked out into the center of the crowd. All eyes fixed on to the top hat that was on his head as they wondered: _Is that it? Why—it's just an ordinary hat!_

The young man took his hat off then, revealing a clean-cut hairstyle that complimented his fresh face, making his alleged "madness" seem only the stuff of rumors.

"Good people of Wedgemore!" he greeted with a bow, "My name is Jefferson and I am here to abolish your doubts. I hold in my hand," he paused to raise the top hat high above his head, "A device that will transport me to another world!"

Jefferson's eyes kept seeking out a certain face in the crowd that gave him the courage to stand before these people. A young blonde woman, holding a small child on her hip smiled reassuringly at him each time he looked her way. Her name was Alice and she watched him with the same wide-eyed, curiosity that had drawn him to her in Wonderland. The young magician smiled at his wife and daughter, and then continued his speech_—_even as the towns people scoffed and shouted-out hateful remarks.

"Today—before your very eyes—a portal will open up and I will disappear inside of it, leaving this world momentarily!"

Jefferson walked before the crowd that encircled him then, instructing them to move back.

"I'll need more space," he said, "And be sure to stay back when the portal opens—you wouldn't want to fall inside!"

He winked at Alice before walking to the center of the circle and bending towards the ground.

"Here we go!" he shouted-out a warning as he dropped the hat onto the ground with a spin.

The hat spun faster and faster, causing the towns people to all gasp in wonder. When a whirlwind kicked-up and started pulling at their clothes—some of them screamed. The hat lifted into the air as it spun impossibly fast, opening a large hole into the ground that caused some of the towns women to faint. The young blonde woman shared a smile with her magician-husband just before he gave a dramatic exit-bow and then jumped inside of the hole. Screams echoed after him, and then, the wind died down and the portal closed. The blonde woman—with her child on her hip—ran towards the hat and picked it up from the ground.

"Where'd he go?" a man from the crowd yelled-out.

"How long will he be gone?" another asked.

Moments later, a door to a nearby shop—a door that had been the closest door to where the portal had been—opened-up and Jefferson walked out of it. The onlookers gasped as they saw him, and he stepped before the crowd with arms raised, showing them that he was unharmed. There was applause and then a great commotion of questions erupted from the crowd: _Why did you come back through a door? Did you go to another world? What did you see?_

"That is all for now," he said as he waved his hat to them before wrapping an arm around his wife and child, steering them away, "For a few pounds you can buy yourself a journey of your own into the hat! If you have the right price—come see me!"

"A few pounds?" someone complained.

It was a lofty price for the common man. Yet, it kept his customers few, but loyal. Someone, in every town he had visited, always came knocking on his door with a bag filled of coins. It was only a matter of time.

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* * *

.

A large, cottage-shaped wagon sat at the edge of the town away from the hustle and bustle of the marketplace. Inside it, Jefferson rocked his baby daughter in his arms as he sent her off to dreamland. This home—this traveling wagon—was very much like the one he had lived in as a child. Of course, his earnings from performing his hat tricks paid for a much grander and spacious dwelling than the one that had belonged to his father.

"I believe she's asleep now," a voice whispered in his ear as hands slid around his waist.

Jefferson's eyes closed shut at the feel of his wife's touch and he smiled, satisfied, as she laid her head against his back.

"I like watching our daughter sleep," he admitted, "It's the only time she goes off to a world that I can't follow her to."

Alice unwrapped her arms from around him so she could take away the baby.

"That's not so," she disagreed as she laid their daughter into her bassinet and lightly ran a finger-tip across her forehead, "You're in there with her. Grace _dreams _of you, Jefferson. How could she not?"

Alice turned to find him standing right before her in that "too-close" way of his. He gazed down into her eyes as he often would, and the intensity at which he could look at her always managed to make her temperature rise. This time was no different.

"And what about you?" he asked in a low, hushed voice as his face inched ever closer to hers, "What do you dream of? Of chasing rabbits? Of tea that makes you crazy? Of cakes that make you grow?"

Alice flashed him a wry smile and shook her head.

"No, nothing like that," her voice was almost laughter, "Besides, dreams are secrets that—if spoken—might never come true."

Jefferson smirked and his hands went to her waist.

"Curiouser and curiouser," he whispered her own phrase against her ear, "Tell me your secret dream, Alice."

Alice took-in a deep breath as Jefferson pulled away from her ear to meet her heavy lidded gaze. She glanced from his eyes to his lips and she could practically feel the familiar brush of them against her own.

"I dream of you," she confessed, "I always dre—"

His lips, soft and full, pressed against hers, silencing her. Her heart was a fast flutter as his hands molded to the contour of her back, pulling her tightly against him and she _hummed_ at the contact. She couldn't imagine ever getting enough of him. After years, a glance could set her on fire and a kiss—a kiss could make her melt to a useless puddle on the floor. Jefferson's lips brushed across hers, once more, before he pulled away. Alice's hands were quick to pull him back. He smiled against her mouth, amused by her initiative, and a rare laugh escaped him.

"Shhh," Alice hushed him with a finger, "You'll wake Grace."

The couple turned to watch as their daughter's little fist rubbed at her eye, but she did not wake. They both gave a sigh of relief, but then, there was a knock at the door! Jefferson's eyebrows lowered as he looked through the doorway of his daughter's tiny room to see the front door. It was odd. It was odd that someone would come to him after nightfall.

"Stay here," he told Alice as he closed the door behind himself and walked towards the knocking visitor.

A sudden foreboding came over him as he reached for the door knob, but he ignored it.

"Yes?" he asked as he pulled the door open.

Too shadowed figures—distinctly feminine—stood outside his door.

"Won't you invite us in, Jefferson?"

He felt a sense of panic as he recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

"Who are you?"

One of the women stepped into the light that was shinning from inside of his home. The light caressed her face, illuminating her familiar beauty while highlighting the fine wrinkles that had come with the years. Jefferson's face fell as he recognized her and he immediately felt bitterness towards her.

"What do you want?" his voice was low and testy.

The woman shook her head in disappointment, and then moved forward.

"Come now," she said as she squeezed passed him and into his home, "Don't tell me that time has made you a discourteous man."

A young woman followed in behind her, and her name—which was the only name he knew of these two women—he remembered. _Regina. _She examined his face with carefully disguised interest as she passed through the door way, noticing that he had grown-up handsomely. For Jefferson, it was just an awkward glance between two people who had once seen each other as children.

"You were such a sweet and respectful child when I met you 10 years ago. What has happened?"

Jefferson's jaw clenched as he turned to his uninvited guests, and he didn't close the front door in hopes that they would be leaving.

"A stranger gave a 9 year-old boy a powerful tool that he didn't know how to use. A LOT has happened."

Hearing the irritation in her husband's voice, Alice walked into the room, carrying a very awake Grace in her arms.

"Oh!" the woman sounded surprised but then smiled at Alice, "You must be the misses. My name is Cora and this is my daughter, Regina. We're old friends of Jefferson's."

_Cora._ Jefferson thought her name. _Now, he had a name for the woman he didn't trust._ She took a step towards him then, while his hand still held on to the door knob.

"I've come to ask a favor—"

"No." he turned her down before she could finish.

Cora's expression quickly became a scowl—a dark vengeful thing, and Jefferson got a true glimpse of the woman he was dealing with.

"Why not?" she snapped as she glanced around the finely decorated room, "I see you've profited well from using the hat. I believe I am partially responsible for your success!"

Jefferson scoffed at that.

"You're responsible all right. You're responsible for the loss of my mother, and my father!"

Cora's scowl deepened, showing her age.

"Well, if the hat's power has been such a burden—give it back!"

The woman held her hand out to take the hat from him, and Jefferson gulped. He couldn't imagine parting with it. It had been a part of who he was for so long. He still, in the back of his mind, had hopes of finding an undiscovered door to another world—a world he hoped to find his parents in. Jefferson gave a firm shake of his head and Cora fumed. Apparently, it was one too many rejections for Cora to take.

"If you wont do as I ask by will—you WILL by force!" and her wicked finger pointed at Alice and Grace and a green stream of smoke encircled Alice's arms like woven binds, pinning mother and child together.

"Jefferson!" Alice shouted as baby Grace cried-out.

Jefferson looked desperately between Cora and Regina.

"Please," he begged, "Let them go. I'll do whatever you want!"

"Too late for that," Cora spat, "Your insolence has shown that you can't be trusted! Take the hat and go outside! We will follow you."

Jefferson stared across the room into Alice's frightened brown eyes as Cora took hold of the binds that surrounded his family.

"Go!" she ordered him as they moved—Cora leading Alice to walk ahead of her.

Regina followed behind, looking disapprovingly on the entire situation. Her eyes met Jefferson's desperate ones for just a moment before she quickly looked away. He was helpless, he realized. There was no way around this. Jefferson reached for his hat then, and jumped down from the wagon. Once on the ground, he turned to help down his bound wife and child. In that brief moment, Alice searched his eyes, telling him a million things, but most importantly, asking: _What's going to happen to us? _In his own thoughts, Jefferson wondered the same thing. He walked towards a clearing in the woods then, and stopped to address the wicked woman.

"What do you want me to do?"

Cora smiled as she came to a stop beside him, placing herself between him and his bound up family.

"To start with," she began, "I want you to open-up the portal—for all of us."

Jefferson's eyes glanced worriedly at Alice.

"If I do—you have to let me hold my wife and child to ensure they don't get hurt on the way down."

The black-cloaked woman curled up her lip as she glared at him.

"This isn't a bargain, Jefferson. You've lost that opportunity. But I promise that no harm will come to them on the way through the portal."

His eyes darted between Alice and Cora. He didn't trust this woman anymore than he trusted a spider in his shoe. But what could he do about it? Jefferson spared one last lingering glance at his wife and daughter before he stepped forward to give the hat a spin on the ground. The wind from the hat as it spun caused the surrounding trees to sway.

"After you."

Cora shook her head at his offer as she took a firm grip on the binds that were wrapped around Alice and Grace, while Regina, who was standing on the end, placed a protective arm around his bound family.

"Together," Cora said as she offered him her hand.

Jefferson merely blinked at her, and then, with a sigh of surrender, he took her hand.

"Hold on to them," he said as he glared into her eyes with a warning.

They jumped then—all falling down into the portal at once. They fell through a black abyss until light could be seen at the bottom, and then, their descent began to slow. As if they were suspended by the air, their bodies floated down safely into a well-lit room. The room had many doors. Once his feet touched the floor, Jefferson couldn't let go of the woman's hand fast enough. He took a step towards his family then—but only one step. With a halt of Cora's hand, Jefferson was unable to move.

"You can see to your family once you have done as I ask!"

Jefferson glared at her.

"What are you asking?"

Cora released him and he stumbled forward a step. The wicked woman's entire countenance changed then, and a joyful smile spread across her face.

"Regina was proposed to—just today! She will be getting married soon," Cora gave a wistful sigh, "My daughter is going to be a queen!"

Jefferson noticed how Regina's eyes were fixed onto the floor while sadness was fixed on her face. It was clear that she wasn't happy about the engagement. Jefferson didn't care.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"I need you to get something—a sort of "good luck" token for my daughters upcoming nuptials. Tell me—behind which of these doors lies _The Emerald City_?" Cora asked as she walked around the room, passing by several of the unique entrances.

Jefferson nearly groaned.

"Oz?" he questioned, "You want me to go to Oz? And all of _this_," he gestured around the room with his hands, "Has been about an engagement present? An engagement your daughter, clearly, doesn't even care about?"

With an enraged shout, Cora spun on him as she thrust her arm forward, sending Jefferson backwards through the air. His back banged against one of the doors and Alice shrieked-out her concern.

"Jefferson, please!" she begged, "Just do as she asks so that we can go home!"

Cora gave Alice a dark, insidious look that Jefferson missed as he, too, looked at his wife. He nodded at her in acceptance.

"I'm sorry, Alice," he apologized before he stood to his feet and looked at Cora, "What is it that you want?"

A perpetual scowl was on the woman's face even as she spoke.

"In the fields near _The Emerald City_, there is said to be a few patches of clover, and among these patches can be found a six-leaved clover—a powerful tool! I want you to bring one back to me."

Jefferson tried to hide his annoyance that his family was bound-up all for a plant! He turned his back on Cora then, and walked towards a doorway that was covered be an elaborate, green curtain. He stopped in front of it and glanced over his shoulder at Cora.

"When I come back with what you've requested, I want you to let them go."

She heaved-out a breath as she looked at him through narrowed eyes for a moment, and then, with a forced smile, she bowed at the waist.

"You have my word."

Jefferson nodded before he turned his eyes on Alice, noticing the uncomfortable way their baby daughter was strapped to her chest from the binds. Yet, amazingly, Grace was sleeping through all of it. Alice smiled reassuringly at Jefferson, and then, with one last shared glance, he parted the curtain with his hand and stepped into the land of Oz.

A yellow brick road laid at his feet, stretching on for miles through rolling green hills. Far off in the distance he could see the majestic Emerald City—built of green marble. Jefferson stared at it for only a moment before he scanned the edge of the brick road for signs of clover. He walked through the fields searching the ground and he jogged towards the city as his eyes skimmed-over the terrain. It felt like hours had passed and still he hadn't found a single clover patch. Jefferson began to wonder if it was a trick, fearing that Cora had sent him on an errant mission. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that his boot nearly crushed the desired six-leaved plant. He took a step back and knelt to the ground. Within the small cluster of clover, were two stems that each had six leafs. He took both of them in hopes that Cora wouldn't have any need to call on him again. The run back down the yellow brick road to the curtained entrance felt considerably shorter, but left him extremely tired. He worried about how much time had passed between Oz and the room of doors—it could have been minutes or it could have been days. Jefferson reached the curtain and walked through it head first.

"How wonderfully quick you are, Jefferson!" Cora bragged as she went to him to retrieve her prize, "Even from a child—I knew that you would be useful."

Jefferson ignored that as he handed the clovers to her.

"I've brought what you wanted. Now—"

"Yes, yes!" she waved him off without looking his way as she gently admired the two clovers.

A moment later, the binds evaporated from around his family and Jefferson ran towards Alice. He threw his arms around her, embracing her and their child all at once.

"I'm sorry, Alice. I'm so sorry. I always promised you that I would never let my work put you or Grace and danger. Forgive me."

Alice held Grace with one arm while she placed her hand on Jefferson's cheek.

"Of course I forgive you," she said as she gazed into his eyes, "I love you."

Her hand reached around to the back of his neck then and she pulled him down for a kiss. Jefferson kissed her back—it was a desperate, but relieved kiss that lasted for just a moment. Jefferson pulled away then, and kissed the top of his daughter's head.

"I love you both," he said as he took Grace from his wife's tired arms.

"Jefferson," Cora called to him and he reluctantly turned to see her, "While you were away I had time to examine these doors."

He watched with suspicion as the woman walked across the room to a door that was made of steel and held together by several bolts.

"I found _this _door to be particularly interesting."

Jefferson raised an eyebrow at her door of choice. There was nothing interesting about it; _nothing_ being the key word.

"Why?" he asked, "It just leads into a black hole—an empty universe."

Cora smiled.

"Precisely."

Without touching it, the door flew open and Alice's legs were pulled from underneath her by some invisible force. Jefferson lunged forward to grab her, but he couldn't move—it was as if an invisible wall was blocking him. Alice screamed-out for him as she was slowly pulled towards the open door, and Grace cried in her father's arms as Jefferson struggled to break-free of the hold that Cora had on him.

"DON'T!" he begged, "Cora, please! I will do anything!"

"I know you will," she spat, "The next time I call on you—you will spare me your insolence and do as I ask! This little family of yours is too much of a distraction!"

"JEFFERSON!"

Alice slide across the floor until her foot braced against the doorjamb and she was crying, helpless.

"PLEASE!" Jefferson pleaded as he looked between Cora and Regina, "Please, don't do this! Take them away. Both of them—to some other place I can't find, make them forget who I am, make them hate me, even! But, don't do this!"

Cora gave him a sympathetic smile that wasn't sympathetic at all, while Regina's chest was heaving in fear of her cruel mother. Cora slowly raised her hand then—a symbolic action that made the situation all the more real—she was really going to do it, she was really going to let Alice fall into nothingness.

"Mother, don't!" Regina shouted just as Alice's foot slid past the doorjamb and she passed over the sill, disappearing.

"ALLIIICCCE!" Jefferson yelled as he fought against the invisible barrier, nearly dropping Grace from his arms in his frenzy, "Alice."

He could hear her screams grow fainter and fainter until he couldn't hear her at all and he felt his heart plummet inside of him. The barrier that had stopped him broke then, and he fell to his knees, clutching the screaming Grace to his chest as he leaned forward, sobbing. Images of her—his wife, his love—falling into darkness, was all he could see behind his shut eyes. So, he opened them. Anger fueled him and he looked up at Cora with pure, unadulterated hate.

"How could you think that I would ever help YOU after what you've just done?"

Cora's lip curled into a sneer as she glared at him.

"Because," she said, "I will take the baby, too."

Jefferson's arms wrapped tighter around the child as he looked at her with wild eyes—the eyes of a desperate man who had lost everything and had nothing else to lose.

"You might as well kill me then, because I'll have no reason to live!"

"Sure you will," she disagreed, "I didn't say I would kill the child. On the contrary, I would keep her as leverage!"

Her hand raised again and Jefferson felt Grace being pulled from his arms.

"NO!" Regina screamed as she plowed into her mother, gripping the woman's wrists to detour the direction of her power.

Jefferson stared in surprise and felt something like relief as he watched the two women struggle. Yet, more than anything, he felt numb and suddenly everything felt surreal.

"RUN!" she ordered and he forced himself to stand to his feet, "I can't hold her off for long!"

"REGINA, I WILL—"

"You'll what? Strike my face so that I might wear a bruise on my wedding day? Jefferson, run!"

Jefferson ran with his daughter in his arms. He ran towards the simple black door that always led him back to his world and it opened-up into his traveling wagon. He ran outside towards the top hat that was laying on the ground and he picked it up. He ran and ran until he didn't know where they were or how far they had gotten. He ran away from his home and the life he and Alice had made together. He ran because Grace was all that he left in the world and he'd be damned if he'd let anyone take her away. His heart and his mind and his soul couldn't handle anymore losses.


	5. Better Late Than Never

Chapter 5: Better Late Than Never

Jefferson woke with a heart-pounding start and sat up from the floor that had served as last nights bed. He had slept in a lot of places—both cozy and uncomfortable—throughout his life, but he never slept in any of them very well. The Prince, he noticed, as he rose to his feet, was sleeping soundly on the couch. Jefferson quirked an eyebrow at the way his arm was bent, having his fingers tensed above his hip as if it were gripping the hilt of a sword. _So this is how it's going to be. _He thought to himself. _Forever a villain in their eyes..._

Jefferson sighed and walked-off to make sure that his daughter was where he had left her. Sure enough, Grace slept in a sleeping bag near to the one Henry was sleeping in. She looked peaceful and safe all curled-up inside of it. Jefferson took a deep, relaxing breath at the sight of her and then took a step back, quietly, not to wake her. A loud _gasp—_almost a shriek_—_sounded from behind him and it set off a chain-reaction. Grace and Henry stirred. The Prince, sleepily, called-out something about a "scoundrel" and Jefferson turned to see Emma standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

"Are you always going to react this way when you see me?"

Emma made a face.

"You say that like I'll be seeing a lot of you."

Jefferson walked towards her until he was at a sufficiently awkward distance. Emma glanced up at him with fear behind her eyes, but she didn't back off. Jefferson looked her over with such an intensity that she could nearly feel his eyes raking over her skin, stopping at her lips before glancing back into her eyes. His face was mere inches from hers, and with Jefferson, she never knew whether he wanted to kiss her or kill her.

"Emma," his voice was calm and raspy as he examined her through lowered eyelids, "You were the one who said I could stay."

Emma swallowed as she held his gaze. She had the feeling that that wouldn't be the last rash decision she made when it came to him. She took a step back as she narrowed her eyes.

"Remind me to tell you when your "stay" expires."

She walked passed him then, heading for the bathroom, and Jefferson smiled to himself at her words. Any other person would have thrown him out immediately! Emma was still debating on how long he could stay. It occurred to Jefferson, in that moment, that he should show some appreciation for her hospitality—however short it turned out to be. He walked into the kitchen and glanced around, wondering if they kept any tea in the house...

An old tea kettle, a few bags of the common store-bought tea, and three phone calls later—the kettle was whistling on the stove.

"No! No, I have no idea how to un-enchant a toaster oven!" Emma exclaimed to the person on the other end of the phone, "I'm the town's SHERIFF, not the town wizard!"

Emma ended the call and then dropped the phone on to the counter.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?" she asked as she looked to her impossibly young parents who were sitting at the kitchen table, "I keep getting phone calls about enchanted kitchen appliances and one TV set that won't stop playing reruns of _Bewitched_!"

Jefferson smiled to himself as he poured some of the tea into a coffee mug.

"Magic doesn't seem to agree with technology," he responded before Snow or the Prince could.

Prince James nodded his head in agreement.

"Technology," he said the word wistfully, "We were still cooking over fire-pits in our world."

Jefferson placed the coffee mug on the counter in front of Emma and she only stared at it.

"You know," she began, "The last time you handed me a cup of something it rendered me unconscious!"

Jefferson sighed. _Ever the villain..._

"Emma," he spoke her name as he leaned across the counter, staring into her eyes, "What would I gain from drugging you now?"

Emma scowled.

"What did you gain from drugging me THEN?"

Snow White gave a dark laugh from her chair at the table.

"Probably a bad headache and a few cuts and bruises that we can't see."

Jefferson glanced at the brunette who looked at him as if he were the plague. She wasn't wrong about the cuts and bruises...

"Papa, you made tea!" Grace exclaimed, happily, as she walked into the kitchen with Henry following behind her.

She wrapped her arms around her father's waist, hugging him, and Jefferson lovingly smoothed a hand over her hair. Emma watched the two of them, even as her own son sat on the stool beside her. Her eyes were fixed on Jefferson's face, noticing the easy way he smiled when he looked at his daughter. It was a side of him she hadn't seen.

"Here," Jefferson said as he picked-up the coffee mug that was in front of Emma, "Emma doesn't want her tea."

The little girl took it gladly and took a sip from it, right away.

"Thank you, Emma." she thanked her with a smile.

Emma merely blinked.

"Can I have some too?" Henry asked.

Jefferson was quick to grab another mug and fill it up with tea. Soon, even the Prince and Snow were requesting a cup. _If the children were drinking it—why shouldn't they?_ Emma was last to ask for a cup of his tea and Jefferson seemed to bring it to her slower than he had to the others. As he brought her the cup, his blue-gray eyes held hers and there was something very smug about his expression. He looked into her eyes, satisfied at her acceptance, and she looked right back into his, stumped by the sudden "nice guy routine".

"So, what's your plan for getting your hat back?"

Jefferson looked to the Prince as he pushed the coffee mug across the counter to Emma, and Emma blinked her eyes as if she had been in a trance.

"I plan to take it from her house." Jefferson replied to the other man.

"And what are you going to do once you have it?" Snow asked with skepticism in her voice.

He stared at the woman for a moment, knowing that any vagueness on his part would only make Snow White all-the-more suspicious. Yet, he didn't want to give too much away. Jefferson sighed.

"Something I should have done a long time ago."

Emma noticed his evasiveness, but she realized that—when it came to _him—_the less you knew was probably the better!

"Here's a better question: If she has her powers back—how do you expect to get into her house?"

Jefferson looked at Emma just as she took a sip of her tea. He opened his mouth to respond to her, but Henry spoke-up first.

"I could help you," the boy offered, "I could—"

"No!"

Emma was very adamant about leaving her son out of it and the firm look in her eyes was enough to silence Henry. Jefferson understood her caution better than most.

"Thank you, Henry. But Emma's right. You should keep away from Regina."

Emma eyed him carefully. He was like two different people. She had seen his aggressive side and she had seen his tender side. _Which one had dominance? _Jefferson glanced at her as if he had heard her thoughts, and then he walked towards his daughter, who had taken a seat on the stool beside Henry.

"Grace," he spoke her name seriously as his hand pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "I have to leave for a few hours, but I promise you that I'll be back."

The little girl frowned and she shook her head vigorously. Emma noticed the panic on Grace's face and she remembered—in the story book—how the girl had lost her father once before.

"No, papa," she pleaded, "Don't go. How can you promise something you can't be sure of?"

"Because I'm going with him," Emma said without hesitation.

Jefferson shot her a curious look that made Emma roll her eyes.

"Yes," she affirmed with a frustrated sigh, "I'm going with you, and Grace—I can promise you that I'll bring your father back."

Jefferson quirked a smile—partly because Emma didn't know where he planned to go and partly because he appreciated her concern for his daughter. Grace reluctantly nodded at the sheriff, while the couple at the table exchanged a look, and one of them may have even sustained an elbow to the ribs.

"I will go too, then," the Prince spoke up with a wheeze.

Emma turned on the stool to look at the man she knew as "David" who was actually her father, whose real name was "James", and who was sometimes called "Prince Charming". Emma swallowed and winced a little in preparation to turn down his offer. She had survived twenty-eight years without a fathers protection (without a _mans_ protection!)—she didn't need it now.

"Thank you," she said as she looked between the two of them, "But I'll be fine. Jefferson will be leaving his daughter in your protection, so I think you can trust that I will be safe, too."

Jefferson kept his mouth shut, deciding not to mention the potential risks that were in-store for the both of them. Snow White glanced at him with worry behind her eyes as if she suspected it.

"Emma—"

"I'll be fine," she repeated as she slid-off of her stool, "Really! It's better that the both of you are here to protect the kids."

Snow sighed in surrender and the Prince nodded in acceptance.

"Thank you," Emma said before ruffling Henry's hair and then grabbing for a jacket, "Hurry up, Jefferson."

He raised an eyebrow at her order, and then met his daughters worried gaze. With a smile, he silently promised Grace that everything would alright. The little girl smiled back, comforted by the fact that at least he wasn't going alone. Jefferson spared one last glance at his daughter before he followed Emma out the door. He followed her out to the little yellow bug that was parked on the curb, and he stopped moving just as she bent to open it.

"May I drive?"

Emma stood straight and then turned to give him a "you must crazy" look. Jefferson hated that look.

"It wouldn't be the first time that I've driven your little car."

Emma's face went blank as she remembered finding the car parked behind his house with a cover thrown over it. She scowled at him.

"You know, you're not helping yourself by reminding me of stuff like that," Emma said as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, "Is _driving_ your solution for not telling me where we're going?"

Jefferson sighed and then crossed the distance between them until he was standing right before her. Emma didn't move though she felt the need to rock back on her heels from his closeness. As it was, he searched her eyes with a serious expression on his face and Emma couldn't control the way his intense gaze made her heart pound. Jefferson leaned-in the tiniest bit closer as he stared into her eyes.

"Yes," he replied, and then, just as quickly, he leaned back, "You volunteered yourself to go with me. You'll find out where we're going soon enough. However, since I am the one leading this mission—it makes sense that I should be the one to drive."

"Mission?" she scoffed-out the word, "More like _mission impossible_! Here—" she paused as she threw the keys at him, "You're going to need more than _me_ and the keys to my car to help you get into Regina's house."

Emma walked around the car to the passenger side, and Jefferson gave a sigh before muttering: "I know."

Soon enough, the two of them were in the awkward position of being closed-up in a tight space together. Emma found herself watching him as he drove. At first, she watched him from lack of trust, but then, it turned into more of an examination. She examined the way he gripped the steering wheel with one hand at the top while he kept his narrowed eyes trained on the road. She wondered what his deal was with the dark vests that were fitted to his chest, the printed, collared shirts, and the scarfs—always the scarfs!

"That scar on your neck," Emma began and he shot her a surprised look, causing him to swerve on the road, "Whoa. Must be a sore subject. Are you embarrassed of it or something?"

Jefferson pulled the scarf off from around his neck as he kept his eyes on the road and Emma couldn't help but to look at the scar.

"No," he replied as he caught her gaze, "But it tends to unnerve people and it causes them to stare."

Emma stopped staring and looked out the window instead.

"I can't believe you were beheaded and actually lived," Emma confessed, "That's just—really, really, extremely rare."

Jefferson sighed.

"Not in Wonderland, it's not."

Emma examined his face as he drove. Her eyes traced his jawline, and then paused at the fullness of his lips. She noted his carefully styled brown hair and the brooding way his eyebrows lowered over his eyes. And then, Emma realized it. She realized what she had stopped herself from realizing as Jefferson had held her captive, and what she had protected herself from seeing even as he stood so impossibly close. She was attracted to him and she was ashamed of it. Emma looked away and glanced out the window, reminding herself of all the reasons why it was bad to see him that way. As she looked out the window, she saw where they were, and from that, she tired to determine where they were going. Soon, they would being passing "Granny's Bed and Breakfast". Emma took-in a sharp in-take of breath and went rigid in her seat.

"Pull in here!" she demanded and Jefferson didn't hesitate, cutting the wheel to turn onto the little road that led to the bed and breakfast. He stopped in front of it and then shot her a quizzical look. Emma quickly got out of the car.

"I have to check on a friend!" she called-out as she closed the passenger door behind her.

Jefferson begrudgingly cut-off the engine and followed her to the door of a room that she didn't bother to knock on. _Friends that don't expect you to knock?_

"Who is this friend of yours, anyway?" he asked with a curiously raised eyebrow.

Emma stood frozen as she stared at the empty bed in front of her. _Where was August? _No sooner had she thought it, that she had this strong feeling to leave the bed and breakfast and take a right. _Or, a left? No. Definitely a right!_

"Emma?" Jefferson moved-up behind her when she failed to respond.

She turned around to find him at his usual closeness.

"Oh," she muttered as she shook her head, trying to clear it, "My friend is August Booth. He's..."

She glanced-up into Jefferson's attentive eyes as she stopped herself from almost saying something crazy. Then, of course, she remembered that everyone _here_ was crazy.

"He's Pinocchio."

"Hmm," Jefferson sounded disinterested, "He's probably with Geppetto, then. Are you ready to leave?"

Emma frowned at him.

"I watched him turn to wood, right in front of me! He wasn't moving after that! I thought he was dead, and now, he's gone! Just gone!"

Jefferson looked at her sideways.

"No wonder you nearly passed-out in front of me," he said with a shake of his head, "Seeing a man turn to wood must have really pushed a "seeing-is-believing" realist—such as yourself—over the edge."

Emma's eyes narrowed at him and she took a step forward until there were mere inches between them.

"I believe, _now_!" she spat as she glared up at him, "So let's get—whatever this is—over with!"

Her shoulder roughly bumped into his chest as she walked past him, causing Jefferson to take a step back. He watched her leave the room with a smirk on his face, finding amusement in her boldness. And that's what he liked most about Emma Swan—she was spirited. He walked from the room, closing the door behind himself, and then he went back to the car. She was already sitting inside of it in the passenger seat as she stubbornly glared out the window. He examined her for a moment after sliding inside the car. Her blonde hair was hiding most of her face, but he could see the angry way her mouth was turned-down into a pout.

"Did you want us to look for your friend at Geppetto's place?"

"No. Just drive."

Jefferson drove into town then, and they didn't say another word until the car stopped in front of the pawn shop. Jefferson sighed as he noticed the "closed" sign that was hanging on the door and Emma shot him a look.

"What's your business with Mr. Gold?"

"Rumpelstiltskin," Jefferson quickly corrected her.

Emma made a face.

"Right. It's tough keeping-up with all these alternate egos. Besides, I thought Rumpelstiltskin was supposed to a leprechaun or a goblin or something."

Jefferson breathed-out a laugh.

"That's the beauty of retelling a story, Emma," he said as his eyes danced across her face, "The freedom to take creative liberties."

Emma swallowed and looked away from him, turning her head to glance out the window.

"So what's your business with Rumpelstiltskin?"

Jefferson shook his head at the "closed" sign.

"Well," he began, "I think he should owe me a favor, but I don't think I'll find him here."

Emma looked back at him with lowered eyebrows.

"Why should he owe you favor? I thought he's a deal maker...not a favor granter."

Jefferson didn't answer right away. He held her gaze, wondering if he should tell her the whole story or just continue to be vague—it was certainly quicker being vague. Emma stared back at him, searching his face as she impatiently waited for his answer.

"I returned something that belonged to him. I was a little late getting it back," he said with a shrug, "But as they say..._better late than never_."

* * *

**A/N: This is the last chapter that I've written so far, so updates will probably be happening a little less frequently. I'll shoot for every week, at least.**

**;)**

**As always, thanks for reading!**


	6. Dealing With the Beast

Chapter 6: Dealing With the Beast

The man's hair had grown untamed and his face hadn't seen the blade of a straight razor in a few days, but appearances hadn't mattered to him for years. He stood inside his meager home, cutting off the mushroom stems, and then filling their caps with bread crumbs and herbs just as his mother used to. But he didn't think of his mother or his father anymore. He thought of Alice. He dreamed of Alice and many of those dreams were nightmares. In the night, in the darkness of his home and in the loneliness of his bed—he would talk to her. He would ask for her guidance. He would beg for her forgiveness. He would confess his fears about raising their daughter all on his own. _Am I doing this right?_ He would often ask. Alice never replied, and he never truly expected that she would. Jefferson just liked the illusion that, maybe, somehow, she could hear him.

The rickety front door was pushed open as a blonde-haired child of only 5 skipped into the shabby little cottage. With a smile, Jefferson abandoned his mushrooms and bent down on one knee as he reached his arms out for his daughter.

"Let's see what you've found, Grace."

Grace was holding the ends of her apron to keep her treasures from falling out as she went to her father's arms.

"I found a lot, papa!" the little girl exclaimed as she showed her father the contents of her apron.

Jefferson's plan to look "amazed" was quickly foiled by what he saw and his expression turned serious. Amongst the harmless, brown mushrooms was one glaring inconsistency. One, was brilliant-blue and highly poisonous. He stared at his daughter for a moment, knowing that—true—she was only five, but Grace _knew_ that the blue mushrooms were bad. _Blue is bad. Bad is blue. _Grace always recited it to herself. Jefferson picked up the deviant mushroom and held it in his hand.

"Grace," he spoke to her gently as he looked into her brown eyes—eyes that reminded him so much of Alice, "The blue mushrooms are dangerous. Don't you remember?"

The little girl lowered her head, averting her eyes from her father as she gave a little nod. She had just wanted to make him proud. She knew it had been wrong, but...

"The golden man told me to!" Grace confessed as she looked up at her father.

Jefferson's eyebrows lowered suspiciously as he examined his daughters honest face.

"What "golden man", Grace?"

"The golden man in the woods," she explained, "He said you would be proud because only brave girls pick the blue ones."

Jefferson swallowed and stood to his feet as fear struck at his heart.

"Grace, I will be right back. I want you to go wash your hands and arms."

"Yes, papa." she said as she emptied her apron onto the table and skipped over to the washbasin.

Clenching the blue mushroom in his fist, Jefferson stepped outside and carefully scanned the trees for signs of life. He walked behind the cottage and into the woods where the blue mushrooms always seemed to grow. The one he was holding, he dropped from his hand as his eyes darted between the trees. There was no one in sight, but he knew someone had been there—someone had been with his Grace! He realized that, now, he couldn't even allow her to go outside by herself anymore. Jefferson spared one more glance at his surroundings before he turned to go back home.

"Amanita Indigo," a peculiar voice spoke from behind him and Jefferson turned to see the "golden man" crouching over the blue mushrooms, "They're lovely, but deadly."

The man—or monster or whatever he was—took a blue mushroom in his hand and ate from it.

"Nnnah!" he laughed a wicked sound after swallowing a bite of the poisonous mushroom.

Jefferson feared that this "monster's" presence had something to do with Cora.

"What do you want?"

"I want what everyone wants," he gave a theatrical wave of his arm as he smiled fiendishly, "I want to see the hat-trickster perform his tricks—I want to visit other worlds, of course!"

Jefferson looked the creature up and down with a straight face and then turned to walk away.

"I keep a small number of patrons, and _you_ are not one of them."

A hand fell upon Jefferson's shoulder and he stopped in his tracks.

"Precious little thing, _your_ daughter," the golden man commented as he circled around Jefferson, "She's just as graceful as her name, but, sadly, I don't see her mother anywhere. Not anywhere at all! Where could she be, where could she be?"

Jefferson silently fumed as he glared at this creature with the gold, scaly skin. He made a dramatic show of looking around the forest for someone—someone that couldn't be found. Jefferson's jaw clenched and his hands went into fists at his sides, tempted to throw one.

"Perhaps she's DEAD!"

Jefferson lunged for the creature then, and he went straight threw him as if he were a ghost. Wicked laughter echoed through the trees as Jefferson plowed into the ground instead of his planned target. He rolled over onto his back to find the creature standing above him. Jefferson huffed-out an angry breath as his eyes narrowed.

"After all these years—Cora sends something like YOU to finish-off the rest of my family?"

The creature drummed his fingers together, thoughtfully.

"Cora?" he questioned, "Cora? Hmm. Could you mean the Queen's mother?"

Jefferson opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced.

"Ah, I see!" the creature uttered his understanding, "The queen's mother is the one who stole your beloved! Well, I am no ones minion—certainly not to the mother of the queen! I am just a poor soul—like yourself—who has lost someone."

The creature stood to his feet then, and turned his back to hide a gloomy expression that only seemed contrived. Jefferson quickly pushed himself up off the ground, planning to run home to Grace.

"I'll make you a deal, Jefferson."

Jefferson froze at the sound of his name coming from the creature's lips, and he slowly turned around.

"I don't make deals with nameless devils."

The creature smiled his fiendish smile.

"Then you shall have my name!" he gave a dramatic bow, and then simply said, _Rumpelstiltskin_.

Jefferson's blood went cold upon hearing the familiar name, and Rumpelstiltskin sensed his fear.

"Nnnah!" he laughed his wicked laugh before pointing a bony finger at Jefferson, "Take me into the hat and you'll never have to worry about Grace getting into the wrong mushroom patch. Ever. Again."

Rumpelstiltskin stared at him with his in-human eyes—eyes that Jefferson didn't need to look into to see their dark intent. His words were a threat, and he was powerful enough to make any threat a reality.

"You have until sundown to think about it," the creature said, smiling, "I will be waiting for you, dearie."

Jefferson bolted home to Grace then, looking over his shoulder only once, and when he did—he saw that Rumpelstiltskin was gone. He was breathing heavily when he burst inside the tiny cottage. Grace, who was sitting on the floor, jumped at the disturbance, dropping a toy teacup from her hand. Jefferson all but slid across the floor as he rushed forward to take her in his arms. Grace was too frightened by the shock of her father's behavior to say anything. Jefferson just held her for a moment, pressing his cheek against her hair and holding her tightly, afraid that he was going to lose her.

"Grace," he said as he pulled away, taking her small face in his hands, "You're going to stay with Mister and Misses Slick for awhile. I have to leave for a job tonight, and I'm not sure when I'll be back."

The little girl began to cry. She cried because she was scared. She cried because she had never seen her father act this way and she was too young to understand what was going on. Jefferson wiped the tears away with his thumbs and then kissed her forehead.

"Come here," he said as he stood to his feet, hugging her in his arms, "Let's go visit our neighbors. Everything's going to be alright, Grace."

Jefferson held her close as he realized that those words felt too familiar as if he had said them too many times before. Mister and Misses Slick, the good people that they were, were always willing to watch Grace—they were too good to be lied to, but Jefferson didn't want them to know that there was a chance he might not be coming back. He kissed Grace's cheek and told her how much he loved her, but he didn't tell her goodbye. Jefferson had heard enough to know that—when dealing with Rumpelstiltskin—"goodbyes" turned out to be final farewells, and Jefferson hoped to see his daughter again.

Feeling that Grace was safe, he went back home to retrieve his hat. It was closed-up inside of a large hat box that hadn't been opened for a few months. He exhaled a tired breath as he held the top hat in his hands. It had brought him pleasures and it had brought him miseries. It wasn't possible for him to hold the hat and not think of Alice. It wasn't possible for him to walk into the room of doors and not feel the pain of losing her. But, he had no choice. The "golden man" had threatened his Grace, and for _her_, Jefferson would do anything.

Rumpelstiltskin was waiting in the woods beside the blue mushrooms when Jefferson arrived.

"Ah! We have a deal then!" he exclaimed as he clasped his wicked-looking hands together.

Jefferson's jaw clenched as he reluctantly stepped before the creature, wanting to get it all over with.

"Where do you want to go?"

Rumpelstiltskin shook a scolding finger at him.

"Na, ah, ah, dearie. First," he paused as he eyed the hat with wonder, "Let's see what you can do!"

Jefferson blew out a breath of air, and then moved to stand beside the creature. With the brim of his hat in his hand, Jefferson flipped his wrist and the hat went spinning to the ground. Rumpelstiltskin's wicked laughter shrieked-out around them as the spinning hat created a whirlwind. Jefferson made a hand gesture towards the portal that had opened up.

"After you."

Rumpelstiltskin smiled fiendishly.

"Don't mind if I do!" he bowed before jumping into the portal.

Jefferson watched him disappear into the blackness before he followed in after him, falling and falling until he landed in the hauntingly, familiar room. Rumpelstiltskin was off examining all the doors, while Jefferson tried his best not to look at the one that was made of steel.

"Have you been inside all of these doors?"

Jefferson didn't speak. He merely shook his head as he noticed, with a jolt of fear, how quickly the creature's countenance had changed. Rumpelstiltskin had been all wicked smiles and laughs, but now, a darkness had come over him and he looked as haunted and Jefferson felt.

"Some of these doors," Jefferson began as he spared them a glance, "You can go into, but you can't always come back from."

Rumpelstiltskin crossed the room until he was standing before Jefferson. His eerie, yellow eyes stared piercingly into Jefferson's blue ones.

"You've learned this from losing someone."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement and Jefferson's patience was beginning to wear thin.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked with anger in his tone.

Rumpelstiltskin looked at him carefully, and then decided that the man was worthy enough to hear his tale.

"I seek out the place that mortals go when they die."

Jefferson swallowed and his skin turned cold.

"There's more than just one place. There's—"

"Na, ah, ah, dearie," he scolded him again with a finger, "I seek out only one place. Some call it Hell. Some call it Hades, but no matter—it is an underworld all the same."

Jefferson felt the color drain from his face.

"W—why would you want to go there?"

Rumpelstiltskin turned on his heel, causing his cape to snap through the air. Jefferson watched as he took a few steps away and then stopped.

"You should know better than most. You've experienced a mortal loss—as have I," he confessed with a bow of his head, "And now, I want to get her back!"

Rumpelstiltskin glanced over his shoulder when Jefferson didn't reply. He could sense the young man's sorrow and his fear. _Her._ Jefferson thought as he tried to come-up with a response. He considering telling Rumpelstiltskin to try a necromancer, instead. Inevitably, he responded with:

"Was she someone you loved?"

This time, Rumpelstiltskin was short to reply. Jefferson narrowed his eyes, taking the creatures silence as a "yes" and it bewildered him.

"If you love her—how could you think that she would be in the _Underworld_?"

Rumpelstiltskin spun around and stormed towards the other man. He sneered as he came to a stop in front of him.

"She had believed herself to love me! ME!" he yelled as he pointed a wicked thumb at his own chest, "Where else, than to Hell, would she be sent for loving _me_?"

Jefferson swallowed at the creatures conviction. Rumpelstiltskin was determined to go into a world that Jefferson had never dared to venture, and it terrified him.

"A man can get lost down there and never find his way out," Jefferson explained, trying to persuade him against it, "He can lose his soul!"

Something insidious caused Rumpelstiltskin's mouth to curve-up into a grin.

"Soul?" he hissed-out the word before laughing his wicked laugh, "Then I have nothing to lose. Tell me, dearie, which is the door I seek?"

Jefferson took a deep breath as he walked across the room to the entrance that was in the form of a tall, iron gate. Through the black bars of the gate, there was a smokey haze—like a heavy fog—that would sometimes waft-out past the bars. The smell of sulfur often lingered in the air around the entrance, and the smell alone was enough to keep Jefferson away. Rumpelstiltskin walked towards the gate and wrapped his fingers around the bars.

"Haven't you ever thought to look for your wife?" he asked as he glanced back at the young man.

Jefferson scowled at his words and what they suggested about Alice.

"She's _not _in there," he muttered, darkly, as he glared at the creature.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled his fiendish smile at the sight of Jefferson's glare.

"Since you won't be joining me—I expect you to wait here. And," he paused to point a long, wicked finger at Jefferson, "I _will_ return."

_What if he was gone for days? What if he was gone forever? _Jefferson's mouth fell open in preparation to dispute his words. Rumpelstiltskin ignored the young man as he pushed open the gate and disappeared into the smokey, sulfur-scented haze. Jefferson realized that he was trapped in his own personal hell—stuck in the room with the steel door he had lost his wife in—while the "golden man" was traversing through the real Hell.

After the first few hours had passed, Jefferson considered leaving and going back to his daughter, but the threat of what would come from breaking his deal with Rumpelstiltskin hung over his head like a dark cloud.

More time passed. Jefferson imagined it to be late at night, or maybe even early morning, but he couldn't be sure. His stomach complained about its emptiness, and his body grew tired of sitting down. The sound of a great _whoosh_, as if air had been rushed through a small passage, made Jefferson stand to his feet. Rumpelstiltskin stumbled in through the gate, nearly falling to his knees as if he had been pushed. His hair was covered in ash and parts of his clothes were blackened as if they had been singed. But, it was his face that surprised Jefferson the most. Rumpelstiltskin wearily looked up at him, and for a moment, his eyes were a normal human brown and his skin was not gold and scaly. It was as if Hell had literally scared the hell out of Rumpelstiltskin. Yet, no sooner had Jefferson gotten a glimpse of the man that he had once been that the monster returned, and his large yellow eyes looked vengeful.

"I couldn't find her," he spoke through his teeth as he determinedly approached Jefferson.

"Maybe she's in the other place—the better place."

Rumpelstiltskin hissed at his words and grabbed Jefferson up by the collar of his coat.

"No! Belle has to be in there! She has to be!"

The creature let go of Jefferson and he fell to the floor. _Belle._ The girl he was after was named Belle. Desperate to appease Rumpelstiltskin and keep him away from _his_ Grace, Jefferson racked his mind for another solution. He slowly picked himself up off the floor as he eyed the "golden man" with caution, hoping not to be handled by him ever again.

"I've something different that I can offer you," Jefferson began and the creature gave a curious tilt of his head, "If you can't find her in _place_—maybe you can find her in time. You won't be able to bring her here—that only works for inanimate objects, but you can see her again. We can't change the past, but we can visit it."

Rumpelstiltskin turned his back on Jefferson as he considered his offer. This man, this young father had already witnessed him in a moment of weakness—should he permit him into his past? Rumpelstiltskin thoughtfully turned back to examine Jefferson. _Well, I could always kill him. _He thought.

"How?" Rumpelstiltskin hissed-out the word.

"We'll have to go back for the hat."

Rumpelstiltskin bent at the waist and gave a theatrical wave of his arm.

"Lead the way, dearie."

Jefferson swallowed as he turned his back on a creature that he didn't trust. Glancing over his shoulder only once, he walked towards the solid black door that would lead him home. Rumpelstiltskin followed him through and they ended up inside Jefferson's dark and empty cottage. He was tempted to run next door to check on Grace, but Rumpelstiltskin perceived it.

"Your daughter's safe...for now," he said with a fiendish smile, "Shall we get on with it?"

Jefferson and the "golden man" stepped out into the night and dodged past trees to find where they had left the hat. Jefferson picked it up carefully and then handed it to Rumpelstiltskin.

"Think of her," he said, "Think of a moment in the past that you'd like to revisit, and then, place the hat on the ground."

Rumpelstiltskin looked at the young man with suspicion before he focused his attentions on the hat. His hands gripped the the sides of it as he stared down into the hat, thinking of the girl named Belle. His eyes closed for a moment, and even in the darkness of the woods, Jefferson saw him flinch in pain at his memories. Rumpelstiltskin sat the hat on the ground, then. It spun, casting artificial light on the trees as it began to open a small portal. The portal was barely large enough to fit an arm through, but like a mirror, it reflected a living moment. Rumpelstiltskin took-in a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the beautiful young woman who he had loved and lost. Jefferson's eyebrows raised, surprised at her beauty and at her apparent kindness. _How could he think to find her in the Underworld?_ Jefferson watched as the girl named Belle smiled at Rumpelstiltskin, and sure enough, it was plan to see that she loved him.

"UGH!" Rumpelstiltskin grunted as he kicked over the hat, causing the portal to close.

Jefferson took a step back, shocked and afraid by his sudden outburst.

"GO!" the creature cried, "Take your hat and GO! Neither you or your daughter are worth my time!"

He disappeared then and Jefferson waited around for a moment, expecting him to return. When he didn't, Jefferson exhaled a long breath that he had been holding. He had been lucky, he decided. Deals with Rumpelstiltskin didn't usually end well—at least, that's what he had heard. Once he retrieved the hat from the place it had been kicked, Jefferson went to retrieve his daughter.

With what was left of the night, he tucked Grace safely into her own bed, and then, to his surprise, he found that sleep came fairly easy. In his dreams, he saw a beautiful young woman with brown hair and bright eyes who loved a creature that didn't believe in goodness unless it served a dark purpose. The creature was powerful and evil, but somehow—not nearly as evil as others Jefferson had known.


	7. Magic and Electricity

Chapter 7: Magic and Electricity

"You really _are_ insane." Emma told Jefferson as she caught him trying to pry open the back door of the pawn shop.

Jefferson gave a frustrated sigh and then turned around to see her with his mouth pressed into an angry, hard line.

"I asked you nicely to wait in the car."

"Why?" Emma scoffed, "So you could attempt a "break and entering" while I wasn't looking? You know, under normal circumstances I would arrest you for this."

Jefferson gave her a bored look, and then took three, imposing steps towards her.

"Emma," his voice was low and raspy as he said her name, "Under normal circumstances, you would have had me _committed_, by now. These are not normal circumstances—these are far more special."

Emma swallowed as she stared up at his face. It was something about the way he said "special". It was something about the way his mouth moved when he talked, and she had to force herself to look away. Emma turned around and, with a deep breath, she marched off to the car.

"Mr. Gold—or Rumpelstiltskin, or whoever—isn't even here!" she shouted, "So why would you waste time trying to break in?"

"It wasn't a waste of time," he argued as he strode after her, "It was so I could find some clue as to where he might be."

Emma came to a stop, exhaling a breath as she looked around the empty town. It had only been one day since the curse was lifted and Storybrooke looked like ghost town. Emma placed her hands on her hips as she wondered why that was, and then, she asked herself: _Where could Mr. Gold be? _She let out a gasp and her eyes widened as, suddenly, she knew just where to go. The path to her destination was laid out in her mind. She instinctively knew when to turn and when to stay straight.

"What's wrong?" Jefferson asked as he walked around her so he could see her face.

His intense, blue gaze searched Emma's eyes with concern. _Had Regina cast a spell on her?_ Emma looked up at him, wide-eyed and with something like enlightenment on her face.

"Drive." she told him as she held his gaze, "I know where he is."

Jefferson didn't hesitate. He knew enough about the power of magic to know that it could affect everyone—even those who had never felt its pull. As he started the engine and drove forward, he realized that he had been right all along. Emma did have magic.

"Keep going," she instructed him, and he did, driving further down the road and deeper into town.

He stole glances at her from the corner of his eye, noting the surety in her expression and the determination in her body that kept her on the edge of her seat. Jefferson's mouth curved-up into a smile before he glanced back at the road. Emma Swan was finally a true believer.

"He's in there!" she exclaimed and the car pulled to a stop in front of a dilapidated metal building.

It was an old warehouse that had been left intentionally abandoned. One of Regina's many props to make the town seem more real—a company that had gone out of business. Apparently, however, someone had business there. Jefferson got out of the car and stopped in front of the building.

"I don't know how I know this," Emma sounded confused as if her belief was wavering again, "But he's inside this building. I just—I can feel it. It's craz—"

"No," Jefferson turned to her before she could finish, "It's not crazy," he said as his hand gripped her shoulder and he gave her a little shake, "It's magic. Don't doubt it, Emma. I haven't doubted you for a second. I believe you."

Jefferson's hand fell from her shoulder as he walked forward to inspect the building. Emma stared after him. She was torn between the warm feeling that bubbled-up inside of her at his faith, and the fact that it was the "Mad Hatter" who had faith in her. The squealing sound of metal rubbing against metal drew her attention to a sliding door.

"This seems too easy," Jefferson commented after pushing it aside and then gesturing for Emma to go in ahead of him, "After you."

Emma walked inside the warehouse, looking around at the large, open space. There were empty metal shelves that stretched impossibly high to the ceiling and there was an old, rusty forklift that had been used to reach those shelves. There was no sign of human life anywhere. Emma walked forward until, suddenly, the floor underneath her changed. She took a step back as she noticed the rusty, trapdoor that was imbedded in the concrete slab.

"He's down there," Emma said as Jefferson walked-up beside her, "Help me open this."

Together, they pushed back the rusty, trapdoor, revealing a set of metal stairs that disappeared down into the darkness. Emma swallowed as she gazed downward, questioning whether or not she should wander into the dark unknown with someone she didn't really trust. She shot Jefferson a cautious look and his jaw clenched as he noticed her leeriness.

"I'll go first," he muttered.

The stairs creaked and squealed as she followed him down, and slowly, the light from above failed to provide them visibility in the darkness. Emma gave a frustrated sigh as her hands moved along the stair railings, helping her to feel her way down into a place she couldn't see.

"It's times like these that I wish I had a holster for a flashlight."

"Shhhh." Jefferson shushed her just before she stepped-off the last stair and walked into his back.

He threw an arm behind himself to steady her, and in the darkness, his hand touched her hip. Emma took a step back, flinching at his touch and she waited to move until he put some distance between them. Once she moved forward again, she noticed a flickering light up ahead. The light cast a faint glow in the darkness, illuminating their surroundings just enough to show that the walls were made of rock. They moved forward through the rocky tunnel that lead into a large cave-like room. The room was lighted by candle sconces as if electricity didn't exist. Emma thought to make some snide comment about it as Jefferson walked several feet ahead of her into the room.

No sooner had he exited the tunnel that his body was lifted into the air by some purple-colored smoke that swirled around him—similar to the purple cloud that had engulfed Storybrooke. Emma gasped as Jefferson was thrown across the cave-like room until his back slammed against the rocks. He clutched at his throat then, as if someone was grabbing him by it. Sure enough, Mr. Gold walked towards him with an outstretched arm and clutching fingers.

"How did you find me?" he hissed at Jefferson.

Emma pulled her gun from its holster and pointed it at the older man as she stepped into the room.

"Put him down!" she ordered as she released the safety on her gun with a _click_.

The man who was strangling Jefferson by some invisible force glanced at Emma with confusion on his face. She noticed immediately that he was different. His skin had a strange sheen to it that only seemed to get more prominent the longer he held Jefferson with his magic. _Magic! _

"Ms. Swan," he sounded surprised, "What—"

"The egg—the true love potion! You're the one who brought magic to Storybrooke!" Emma accused him breathlessly.

"That I am, dearie," he replied as he turned his attentions back to Jefferson and tightened his magical grip around his throat, "Is that why this peddler of common tricks lead you to me?"

Emma's heart was racing and she felt panicked as she watched Jefferson struggling 10 feet up in the air.

"No!" she yelled as she aimed her gun at Gold's head, "I found you. Not him. Now let him go!"

Mr. Gold gave a careless shrug and then dropped his arm, causing Jefferson to fall to the ground with a _thud_. The older man's skin seemed to revert back to normal then—no longer having its strange sheen.

"_You_ found me?" he questioned as he took a step towards her, looking her over with suspicious eyes.

Emma watched him with the same sort of suspicion as she realized that he was missing his usual cane.

"Yeah," she replied as she continued to point the gun at him, "Don't ask me how. I just _knew_ where you were."

"Interesting." he mused as he gave a _shoo_ of his hand and Emma's gun pointed at the ground as if a magnet had drawn it there.

She gasped as she found herself unable to point it back at him. Mr. Gold's eyes gleamed a strange yellow color as if the price of using magic was that it altered his appearance. He gave her devilish-looking smile while behind him, Jefferson stood to his feet.

"Hey," he called-out as his hand rubbed at his throat, "Your business is with me—not with her."

The man Emma knew as "Mr. Gold" who was really "Rumpelstiltskin" turned away from her and sneered at Jefferson. Despite her best attempts, the gun still wouldn't move from it's position at her side.

"Our business," he hissed-out the words, "Ended decades ago. I want nothing of you."

Jefferson tilted his head to the side and stared meaningfully passed Rumpelstiltskin at something. Emma followed his line of sight to see a young woman who had crept quietly into the cave room.

"Of course not," Jefferson replied as his eyes fixed on her, "I've already delivered."

Emma's gun fell loose in her hand and Rumpelstiltskin's coloring reverted back to normal as he turned to face the young woman.

"It's _you_," she spoke to Jefferson before she came to a stop at Rumpelstiltskin's side, "This is the man who freed me."

Emma's eyebrows lowered curiously at her words, yet, she was even more curious by how closely the young woman stood next to Rumpelstiltskin. Her proximity and the way she gazed up at him made it seem like the two were in-love. _Who was this girl? _Rumpelstiltskin swallowed as he cautiously glanced at Jefferson. His expression was one of either apology or of dread—Emma couldn't tell which. Rumpelstiltskin bent at the waist, bowing to Jefferson. It was an outdated gesture that reminded Emma that these people were from another time and place.

"I'm in your debt."

Jefferson smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he replied as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Because I need your help getting into Regina's house."

The older man scowled at the request, mulling the words over in his mind, and then, as if an idea had struck him—his eyes flashed to Emma.

"Done," he agreed before a somewhat wicked smile curved-up his mouth, "So long as Ms. Swan repays that favor she owes me..."

Emma swallowed and her heart gave a start. She had promised Mr. Gold a "favor" in return for him leaving Ashley Boyd and her baby alone. Yet, now, Emma knew who _he_ really was. He was Rumpelstiltskin, and making a deal with him was like making a deal with the devil, or at least, that's how the stories seemed to tell it.

"What do you want?"

The man turned to face her.

"I want you to find someone, dearie. With your new talents I suspect it should be fairly easy for you," he said and then his eyes stared-off at something in the distance as a solemn expression came over his face, "I want you find my son."

Emma scowled.

"How do you figure that _that _will be easy? I don't know your son!"

"His name is Baelfire!" his tone was harsh, and when he said the name he winced, "He—you don't need to know him to find him. Just his name and knowing that he's my son should be enough."

The young woman looped her arm through his as she gazed up at him, sympathetically. It was apparent that there was some sad-luck story about his missing son, but Emma decided not to ask about it. Instead, her eyes wandered over to Jefferson who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking very patient. _Patience. _It was something he had had to learn time after maddening time.

"First, you help Jefferson, and then I'll find your son."

Jefferson's eyebrows flicked upwards at her words. There she was...standing up for him, again. _Why? _He didn't deserve it. He had drugged her and her mother and was partially responsible for her son being hospitalized. Never-the-less, Jefferson waited for Rumpelstiltskin's answer.

"Fine," he agreed as if Belle's arm around his own made him a little more generous, "Tomorrow at noon I will give you a small window of time to enter Regina's house, but beware—there's no guarantee for how long my powers will hold her."

"Better yet," Jefferson pitched-in, "Why not just kill her and exact your revenge?"

Emma's lips parted, surprised at the suggestion. The sheriff side of her—the _human_ side of her—didn't approve of killing anyone. Sure, she had wished that Regina would choke on her own apples, or meet her ends by some town assassination plot to kill the mayor, but now, it just got real. Jefferson was deathly serious. Yet, Rumpelstiltskin was deathly angered by it. His hand raised at his side as if he would toss Jefferson around some more and his skin took on a golden sheen.

"How I choose to exact my revenge is no business of yours!"

The young woman wrapped both hands around his arm, pleading with him to stay peaceful. His hand lowered, and with a deep breath, his skin went back to normal. Rumpelstiltskin gazed down at the young woman standing beside him before glancing back at Jefferson.

"It doesn't benefit me to kill her," he explained, "Not as long as the people of this town have someone they hate more than me."

Jefferson considered his words, and then, with a frustrated sigh he nodded his head in acceptance.

"Tomorrow at noon it is."

Jefferson's eyes sought-out Emma's then, and hers were opened wide like she was expecting trouble any minute. Her body was tense and ready to react at a moments notice with her finger still on the trigger. Jefferson walked towards her and pondered at the way her shoulders quickly seemed to sag and her expression became relaxed at his closeness.

"Let's get out of here." she said as she stared into his eyes, almost pleadingly.

Emma glanced at Rumpelstiltskin once more before she turned to leave.

"I'll find your son."

A wicked smile crept across his face at her words, and it made her shudder on the inside.

"I know you will," he replied and it sounded like a threat.

Emma glared at him and even took a step towards him as if she might advance on him. Jefferson's fingers gently wrapped around her arm, and he held her back.

"You were right the first time," he spoke into her ear as he pulled her close, "'Let's get out of here'."

He turned on his heel then and tugged her along as Emma reluctantly put her gun back in its holster.

"Oh! And Ms. Swan—" Rumpelstiltskin called after her and she froze.

Jefferson dropped his hand from her arm as Emma slowly turned around to see the fabled fairytale villain.

"You'd be wise to cover your mirrors," he advised her with a smirk, "The Queen likes to keep track of her enemy's that way. And you, dearie, are enemy number one."

Emma's eyes narrowed, partly because of the idea of being watched through a mirror, but mostly because Regina was the one doing the watching.

"Thanks for the tip," she replied bitterly as she turned her back on him and walked towards the dark tunnel.

As if by magic, the crude rock walls of the tunnel were lighted by candle sconces, illuminating the path to the staircase. Jefferson followed after Emma and she was suddenly glad to have him behind her. _Better him than Rumpelstiltskin._ Once they surfaced and made it back to the car, Jefferson handed Emma the keys and she took them without saying a word. She paused momentarily in the drivers seat as she stared at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Rumpelstiltskin's words rang in her head like a siren, and with one quick _yank_, she ripped the rear view mirror off of the windshield. Jefferson raised an eyebrow as she tossed it over her shoulder into the backseat.

"Mirrors," she muttered under her breath as she started the car, "Next thing you know, someones gonna tell me not to talk around animals because, actually, they're just informants for Regina!"

With a slight wince, Jefferson opened his mouth to tell her that it'd be good advice, but he was silenced by Emma's cold hard stare out the windshield. They didn't speak on the drive back to the apartment. Emma was fuming over things like being spied on, dumb names like "Rumpelstiltskin" and magic in general. Jefferson watched her through the corner of his eye, fearing she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. He recognized the signs—he knew them well. Emma needed something to ground her. She needed something to bring her back down to earth because all this fairytale crap was no easy pill to swallow—she needed to see Henry. When the car stopped, Emma cut-off the engine and then opened the door to get out.

"Wait." Jefferson grabbed her hand and the warmth of his fingers against her cool skin sent a jolt throughout her body.

Her eyes were alert as they flashed to his—all intense and filled with emotions she couldn't decipher. The serious look on his face and the way his fingers lightly brushed over her skin had Emma easing back down into the drivers seat.

"What?" she asked impatiently as she searched his eyes.

With a frustrated sigh, Jefferson's lips pressed together in a hard line. He wanted to comfort her from the sudden onslaught of magic that had turned her reality upside down, even though...it wasn't _his_ fault. If anything, he had tried to warn her about it. Inside his house, he had tried to convince her that magic was real, but she wouldn't buy it! Jefferson wasn't responsible for the current shell-shock she was experiencing, but there was one aspect of their first encounter he felt guilty about. Jefferson looked downward, avoiding her gaze as his lips parted to speak.

"I owe you an apology," he breathed the words before cautiously looking-up into her eyes, "I'm sorry for ever man-handling you. It's not who I am. I don't—A man shouldn't," Jefferson sighed, "It was never my intention to harm you—either of you. But. I was desperate."

Emma swallowed as she looked at him in much the same way she had looked at him when he first started talking about "magic". Despite his sincerity, she jerked her hand out of his grasp. She remembered him pulling her hair as they had wrestled for the gun—the gun he had pointed at her after drugging her and gagging her—and he was only "sorry" for the wrestling bit.

"That's the _only_ thing you're sorry for?"

Jefferson's eyes narrowed for a split second as he realized that she wasn't accepting his apology. _It's not good enough for her? _He pursed his lips in annoyance and then leaned-in closer, until his face was only inches away from hers. At his closeness, Emma could feel the heat from his body on her skin and she could feel his breath on her face. She took-in a breath of her own as his eyes examined her like they could see into the very depths of her soul. Emma's heart pounded furiously in her chest as his eyes darted to her lips.

"I know what you want me to say, Emma," his voice was low and raspy as he spoke to her, "You want me to say that I'm sorry for ever tricking you into coming to my house. You want me to apologize that any of it ever happened—but I'd only be lying."

Emma swallowed as she stared into his eyes and she could hear her own pulse beating in her ears. The combination of her pulse and the heated way that his eyes raked over her made her skin flush.

"I'm not sorry for meeting you, Emma," he confessed as a smile played on his lips, "If I'm being completely honest, the only thing I'm sorry about is that you couldn't make my hat work."

Emma scowled at that, narrowing her eyes threateningly as her lips parted to spout-off a mouthful of obscenities. Jefferson placed his hand to her jaw and it stunned her into silence as her surprised eyes stared into his smiling ones.

"Shhh," he hushed her as his thumb moved across her chin, "You do have magic, Emma—just not the kind needed to make a hat that can open a portal to other worlds."

Emma pulled away from his grasp and gave him a dark look.

"What kind of magic do I have, then?" she snapped.

An amused smile formed on Jefferson's lips as he leaned back into his car seat, placing his arm along the window.

"You have the tracking instinct of a hunter," he replied, "That's why it's easy for you to find whatever you're looking for. As a child, you were probably good a "hide and seek", right? But now—since our gold-loving _friend_ unleashed magic on this world—you're the master of the game."

Emma looked away from him as she considered his words. Frankly, she had heard enough talk about magic and finding things for one day, but conversations like _that_ were becoming commonplace. With a sigh, Emma looked back at Jefferson.

"Since I'm going with you to find your stupid hat—you're coming with me to find his son!"

_Baelfire. _She remembered his name, but she had yet to wonder where she would find him. Jefferson smiled and gave a nod.

"Of course." he said easily as if he would have gone with her either way.

Emma could tell from the sincerity on his face that he would have. She stared at him for a moment longer, wondering if she should chalk-up the whole "kidnapping" ordeal to just a character flaw and forgive him already. There was a big part of her that certainly wanted to forgive him. Jefferson stared back at her, his eyes dancing over her face as he wondered what thoughts were running through her mind. Their eyes connected, realizing that they were both regarding one another, and the air inside the front seat of the car felt electric. Their hearts beat a little faster and their temperatures ran a little hotter. There was something unnamed between them that was like the pull of opposite magnets attracting one another. It was something more than just his bouts of madness and her leeriness of it. Emma swallowed in spite of the pull she felt towards him and she quickly got out of the car. Jefferson leaned forward in his seat, tempted to follow after her. Instead, he watched her walk-off towards the apartment she shared with Snow White, pondering over the moment they had just shared. There had been something there. It was something Emma was too loathe to give-in to, and something Jefferson was too preoccupied by his own agenda to explore.

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**A/N: The next 1 or 2 chapter(s) will take place in Storybrooke. Then, the chapters will go back to alternating. **

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	8. Coming out of the Woodwork

**A/N: Just finished these 2 chapters, so I'm double updating. Hope ya like em'. **

**;)**

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Chapter 8: Coming out of the Woodwork

Snow White—or Emma's mother, or Mary Margaret, or whatever she was supposed to be called—pulled the front door open before Emma could even reach for the knob. She grabbed hold of Emma's arm and yanked her inside before poking her head out the door, looking to see if the unwanted house-guest was coming-up the sidewalk.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you in any way?" Snow asked as she shut the door behind herself and then pulled Emma into a tight hug.

Emma's eyes widened at the forcefulness of the hug, and from over Snow's shoulder, the prince—or her father, or David, or whatever he was supposed to be called—smiled at the two hugging women.

"I don't see him anywhere," the prince remarked as Emma pulled away from Snow White, "Did you hit him over the head with something again?"

Emma rolled her eyes.

"No. He's fine and I'm fine," she replied, "Jefferson is not the scariest person in this town—trust me on that. So, how has everything been here?"

Emma glanced around the kitchen and into the other spaces she could see, looking for Henry and Grace.

"It's been nuts! Your phone's been ringing non-stop," Snow informed her, "We've had everything from a call from _Paige's_ parents...to calls from various townsfolk, wanting to know when you plan to come back to work. And—"

"You've also had a visitor."

Emma glanced up at the sound of the new voice and her jaw fell at what she saw. Entering the kitchen was a wooden man—a walking, talking wooden man. With every step he took towards her his wooden shoes clapped flatly against the floor and his joints creaked with each movement.

"August?" she breathed-out his name, and then she thought she might fall to the floor at the sight of a living puppet—a living puppet she had thought was dead!

Her legs wobbled underneath her then, and two hands from behind were quick to move to her waist, steadying her. It drew her attention away from August and over her shoulder. Jefferson—sneaky as ever—had slipped in the door behind her and was standing at her back. His eyes didn't meet hers. Instead, they were fixed on the wooden man.

"Emma thought you were dead," Jefferson told him, "We went looking for you at the inn."

The sound of little feet pounding the floor came running towards them, then.

"Papa!" Grace called as she ran out of Emma's bedroom and into the kitchen

A smile that bloomed from Jefferson's heart and then spread across his face was met by the equally happy smile of his daughter. Emma stepped out of the way as the two embraced, and for a moment, she forgot all about the wooden puppet standing in the kitchen. Her eyes were fixed on Jefferson as he lifted his daughter from the floor and hugged her, placing a kiss on her forehead. Emma felt a fluttery ache of longing inside her chest as she stared at him. There were very few things more attractive than a loving father and there was no question that Jefferson loved Grace. In a flash, his eyes met hers, and he examined her curiously, noticing the _awe _that was on her face as she stared at him. It amazed Jefferson that—somehow—he held her attention over the boy that was standing in front of her.

"Emma!"

Emma blinked and her head lowered as she followed the sound of the familiar voice. Henry stood before her, giving her a weird look and Emma wondered how long he'd been there.

"Hey kid." she greeted him as her hand ruffled his hair.

The boy looked annoyed and shook his head, attempting to fix what Emma's hand had ruffled.

"Did you hear me? I said we have to help August become real again!" Henry exclaimed.

Emma looked up at the wooden man standing in the kitchen and she took a deep breath before blowing it out in frustration.

"Right." she said as she walked over to the kitchen table where Snow White and the prince were sitting and she took a seat.

Jefferson watched as Emma drug a hand across her forehead, expressing fatigue. She had helped enough for one day and she had already made agreements to help-out even more. Jefferson shot a look at the string-less puppet as he set Grace down on her feet.

"Maybe you could earn the right to be real by filling-in for Emma at the Sheriff Department," Jefferson suggested and August stiffly raised a wooden eyebrow at his words, "Answering phones, responding to disturbances, looking-out for the common good. That should get you back "in-the-flesh" in no time."

August narrowed his eyes at Jefferson and the action made an audible sound.

"Remind me—who are you supposed to be again?"

The man who was _not_ made out of wood, but who often drank tea, narrowed his eyes, knowing that the puppet wanted him to admit to being the "Mad Hatter".

"My name's Jefferson."

Emma looked between the two men, sensing a little tension, and she stood-up from her chair.

"Filling-in for me at the station—That's actually a good idea," she added as she looked at August, "Watching-out for this guy," Emma threw a thumb at Jefferson, "Is a full-time job. I really could use a stand-in. Would you mind?"

His eyes looked from Jefferson to Emma and the creaking sound of his eyes moving inside his wooden eye-sockets could be heard throughout the room.

"If you think I'm right for the job—Sure." he shrugged.

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Of course you're right for the job! Look at you," she said, noting his wooden physique, "You won't even need a bulletproof vest!"

August didn't laugh at her joke—he only gave her a bored look.

"Funny," he said, "I guess there's no escaping the wood jokes from now on."

Emma smiled.

"Sorry," she apologized, "I'm just glad you're alive."

August put his wooden hands against his chest, checking that he was, indeed, _alive_ as he glanced down at himself.

"Yeah," he agreed as he looked-up to meet Emma's gaze, "I'm glad I'm alive too."

Jefferson looked between the two of them as they stared at each other for a moment longer. They definitely had a connection. He could see it in their faces—even in a wooden face he could see it! They had history together, and it set a small fire inside of him that made him hate August just a little. It was jealousy. Jefferson smirked as he recognized the emotion. In neither of his lives—in none of the worlds he'd lived in—had he ever been jealous of the attentions a woman gave to another man. Never had he been jealous over a woman. Not until now.

"I'll give you my badge and the keys to the station to make this legit." Emma told August and Jefferson watched as she walked out of the kitchen.

The two men eyed each other with distaste while Emma was gone, and when she returned they looked away nonchalantly.

"Here you go!" Emma said as she walked back into the kitchen and handed August the badge and keys.

Her hand brushed the smooth wood of his and it made her cringe a little. August tried to ignore it.

"Alright," he said as his wooden fingers closed around the items, "I guess I'm officially sworn-in as town sheriff."

"For now." Emma was quick to reply as she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a playful look.

August smiled and even that action caused his wooden face to make an audible sound.

"Guess I'll see you later then," he told Emma with a wink before he walked towards the door, "Goodnight, everyone."

They all wished him a "goodnight" except for Jefferson. August shot the other man a look before he exited the apartment. It was a look filled with suspicion and just plain distrust. When their guest was finally gone, Snow White and the prince began asking Emma questions about her day. Emma told them everything. She told them about her ability to find people, about Rumpelstiltskin's mystery girl and about his missing son. Inevitably, all of her storytelling only made Emma curious to read Henry's storybook and she went to her bedroom to find it. She missed dinner and Jefferson's card tricks. She missed seeing Snow White lend Jefferson some of "David's" clothes. She nearly missed hugging Henry goodnight as she got so wrapped-up in the storybook that she forgot about everything else.

"Goodnight," Snow whispered from Emma's doorway and she glanced up from the book that was laying open in her lap.

Emma responded with a smile as she watched Snow White and the Prince retire to the bedroom. She went back to reading then, and she read the book all the way through, learning many things, but still there were so many things she didn't know. It was the "things she didn't know" that kept her from sleeping. She tossed. She turned. Her thoughts ran wild. Eventually, she got out of bed in search of a glass of water.

Emma was very quiet as she tip-toed into the kitchen, making sure not to wake-up the two who were sleeping in the living-room. It was well passed midnight and she and Jefferson had plans to be at Regina's at noon, so she didn't want to wake him. Never-the-less, with a glass of water in her hand, Emma couldn't help but get closer. She walked into the living room where the couch was and she saw Jefferson and Grace laying there. Emma noted how he laid on his side with an arm under his pillow as Grace was curled into his chest. It seemed very natural and comfortable for the two of them as if they had often had to share a bed.

"How was your book?"

Emma jumped at the sound of his voice and it caused some of her water to splash onto her hand. A smile formed on Jefferson's face when she didn't immediately answer and then he opened his eyes to see her. Emma scowled.

"It was...informative," she whispered as she cautiously eyed Grace, not wanting to wake her.

Jefferson noticed.

"Don't worry about Grace," he whispered back as he smoothed a hand over the girl's hair, "She's a heavy sleeper like her mother was."

Emma curiously tilted her head to the side at the mention of Grace's mother. There was nothing about Jefferson's wife in Henry's book. There were a lot things the book hadn't told her about Jefferson, and though she'd never admit it out-loud, she wanted to know more.

"Who was she?" Emma asked, "Was she another famous fairytale character?"

Jefferson's eyebrows knitted together at her question and he shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

"Fairytale character?" he uttered the words as he shot her a dark look, "She was _real_. Just as real as you are."

Emma swallowed under his dark stare, realizing that his wife was a sensitive subject.

"I'm sorry," Emma apologized, "But, you know what I meant."

Jefferson sighed, and his jaw clenched as he stared up at the blonde woman who suddenly wanted him to bare his soul to her.

"She was Alice," he admitted, "_The_ Alice. Didn't Henry's book mention her?"

Emma shook her head.

"Henry's book didn't mention a lot of things, like: How you meet Rumpelstiltskin, for example."

Jefferson gave a dry laugh.

"It's no wonder," he replied, "That's a long, boring story that you shouldn't even worry about. But since we were talking about the parents of our children—Where's Henry's father?"

Emma huffed-out a breath and defensively crossed her arms over her chest at the question.

"He's—I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him since—"

Emma couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence as her eyes met Jefferson's. He smirked as he realized that Henry's father was an unfavorable subject.

"I take it that the two of you weren't in-love."

Emma rolled her eyes, and with a deep breath she placed her glass of water down on a nearby coffee table.

"Jefferson. I don't know if I want to be having this conversation with you," her voice was a harsh whisper, "I still haven't figured you out, yet," she confessed, "Are you a friend? Are you a foe? Are you the good guy or the bad guy? I don't know."

Jefferson's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he looked her over. Emma still didn't trust him and it set a fire inside of him that fueled him to move. Emma took a step back as Jefferson slowly moved off the couch, causing a sleeping Grace to slip further into the spot where her father had been. Emma took another step back as Jefferson stood to his feet.

"Emma," he breathed her name as he walked towards her, "What do I have to do to earn your trust?"

Emma's lips parted to speak but the words failed to come from her mouth as Jefferson stopped in front of her. She lifted her chin up so she could look into his blue-gray eyes, and even in the darkness of the living room she could see the desperation in them. Jefferson loomed even closer, until Emma could feel the heat of his body, and her chest heaved with _accelerated _breaths.

"Change the past," she told him while his eyes longingly focused on her lips, "Go back in time and un-kidnap us! Come introduce yourself to me at Granny's, instead."

The corners of Jefferson's mouth pulled up into a smile as he admiringly examined Emma's face.

"I can't do that." his voice was low and raspy as he slowly and tentatively lifted a hand towards her.

Emma took-in a sharp breath as his finger tips slide across her cheek and then behind her neck, causing her to shiver at his touch. Jefferson thirstily swallowed at the thought of kissing her. He had wanted to kiss her many times before. At first, it had been out of loneliness, but now he just wanted to get closer to Emma—to know her that much better. He just wanted her.

"We can't change the past, Emma," he said as his thumb brushed over her cheek, "But maybe I could make it up to you if you let me into your future."

Emma's eyes grew heavy-lidded as she stared at the inviting fullness of his mouth. Her hand passionately fisted in his t-shirt then, and Jefferson's jaw clenched from the restraint it took not to pull her up against him. Slowly he leaned-in, tilting his head towards her until he could feel her breath on his face and it made his blood pump with desire. Emma Swan, the sheriff, "the savior" and a princess by right of birth wanted his kiss. Jefferson gripped the back of her neck as he pulled her lips against his own.

"Papa, please!"

A _jolt_ shot through him at the sound of Grace's voice and he turned around to see his daughter. She was still asleep on the couch, but she fidgeted under her blanket in the midst of a dream. Jefferson sighed as his pulse slowed, but behind him, Emma's pulse only seemed to quicken.

"Goodnight." she spoke quickly as she spun around to walk away, feeling ashamed of herself.

"Emma—" Jefferson pleaded as he stepped forward to go after her.

"Goodnight!" her voice was cold and stern as she went into her bedroom, alone.

In the living room, Jefferson pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes tight in frustration. He doubted it very much that he would be able to sleep. His mouth was still watering in anticipation of kissing Emma and his skin was still buzzing with the excitement of touching her. In the bedroom, Emma crawled underneath her covers and shut her eyes, trying to block-out what had just happened. Her mind told her it was wrong. It kept picking at her like it was her own personal Jiminy Cricket, but her heart and her body disagreed. She didn't know which to listen to. Behind their shut eyelids, Emma and Jefferson saw each others faces. They gave heavy sighs knowing that they'd have to face one another in the morning, and it was both exciting and dreadful...


	9. The Plan

Chapter 9: The Plan

In the morning Grace told her father about her nightmare. It had been filled with endless halls leading to nowhere and doors that opened-up to the ends of the Earth—a straight drop-off into never ending blackness. In her dream, Jefferson had fallen there and Grace was more afraid than ever for him to leave her—no matter _who_ was going with him! Jefferson winced as his daughter asked if she could stay with her fake parents while he was away.

"It would only be for a few hours," she pleaded her case, "Just until you come back."

Jefferson gulped at her request. He had wanted to give his daughter everything—whatever she wanted—but he didn't want to give her _those_ people.

"I know, baby," he said as he cupped her face in his hands, "But it's better that you stay with Snow White and James, for now."

Grace bit her lip at her fathers words. She was smart enough to know that Jefferson didn't want her to ever see her other parents. He had been alone a long time and he didn't want to share his daughter with the people Regina had picked as Grace's parents.

In another room, Henry excitedly talked to Emma about infiltrating Regina's house. He had drawn a map to all the hidden places he had discovered while he lived with the Evil Queen. Emma laughed as Henry _really_ got into it, giving her detailed descriptions of every room.

"Can I please come?" he begged, "This would be so much easier if you just took me with you."

Emma sighed as she looked at her son and he looked back at her with a hopeful grin.

"No. Way."

Henry's mouth twisted in disappointment and Emma pulled him into a hug before heading towards the front door. Jefferson looked away from his own child as Emma walked into the room. Their eyes met with all the heart-pounding awkwardness one would expect after a sleep-talking child interrupted their first kiss. Emma glanced away from Jefferson's intruding gaze as she asked everyone to wish them luck. She walked-out the front door then, and Snow White grabbed Jefferson's arm as he walked passed her to follow Emma.

"You better keep her safe," she whispered her threat into his ear, "Because NO ONE will keep you safe from ME if something happens to her."

Jefferson pulled back so he could look into the woman's face. His eyes were smiling as he did, but he managed to stop the smile from reaching his lips.

"Understood." he said and Snow White let go of his arm.

The two challengingly stared at each other—like it was a staring contest—until Jefferson walked-out the front door. He wouldn't ever come-out and say it, but he secretly liked Snow White and he respected her protectiveness. After all, Jefferson wouldn't want his daughter going-off with someone like himself, either.

Emma's heart started as she saw Jefferson walk out of the apartment. She was already inside the car and she dreaded the moment that he would join her inside the small, confined space. She gave herself a pep-talk as she waited for him, telling herself that she was an adult—a grown woman—and the fact that they had nearly kissed wasn't going to be an issue, at all! As Jefferson approached the car, he examined Emma through the window and he could tell that the fact that they had nearly kissed was a _big_ issue.

He sighed before he pulled the passenger door open and slipped into the seat beside her. Emma's hand quickly fumbled for the key that was in the ignition, turning it artlessly to start the car.

"What's the plan?" she asked without looking at him, "Do we just go up to Regina's house and walk right in?"

Jefferson gave her a bored look. She was planning to evade the one topic that would be hanging over their heads all day, but Jefferson was the type to want to clear-the-air.

"Emma," he all but purred her name and she cautiously glanced at him, "I wanted to kiss you last night, but I don't regret that it didn't work out," Emma gulped and Jefferson noticed it as a corner of his mouth curved-up into a smirk, "Don't worry. We'll get another shot at it."

Emma's teeth clenched together and her eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

"Fat chance of that, pal!" she spat as she shifted gears and drove forward.

Jefferson smiled to himself as he stared at the side of her face, noting her flustered expression. He had sufficiently managed to turn her awkwardness towards him into anger.

"It's almost noon," he commented as he looked at the time on the dashboard.

Emma glanced at the clock too, noting that it displayed 11:52, and she wondered if Rumpelstiltskin was actually going to help them.

"Do you really trust that he's going to keep his word?" Emma asked.

Jefferson raised his eyebrows at her question, realizing that it was possible that they could be walking into a trap.

"No," he replied, "But what better option do I have?"

As they drove towards the mayor's house, a thin stream of purple smoke—like a snake slithering through the air—floated passed the little yellow car. Emma and Jefferson had just enough time to spot it before it shot-off like a rocket to Regina's house.

"Well, I guess we have our answer," Emma said as she stopped the car across the street from the mayor's house—or, what usually was the mayor's house...

A black wrought iron fence stood before the green hedges that surrounded the house. The fence towered ten feet into the air and was topped by long sharp spikes—like broken shards of glass. The house, now, was a darker and twisted version of its former self. The pillars that framed the entrance were warped and the windows were slanted–like apertures from a Tim Burton movie. Flanking the entrance on both sides were two guards covered in black body armor, looking like members from a SWAT team.

"And how do you suppose we get in _there_?"

No sooner had Emma asked the question that the clock on the dashboard read 12:00, Regina's entire estate was cast in a purple glow, and the black wrought iron gate opened like an invitation.

"We just walk right in," Jefferson replied as he got out of the car and strolled towards the gate.

Emma followed closely behind him with her hand resting on the gun at her hip. The guards didn't flinch as they approached. The two armored men appeared to be frozen in time—ones eyes were fixed in a half-blink while the others mouth was caught in a yawn.

"How much time do you think we have before these guys wake up?" Emma asked as she cautiously walked past them.

Jefferson rolled his eyes and shot her a look from over his shoulder.

"Less and less with every question you ask."

Emma glared at him and Jefferson smiled in turn, "Do you have a sense for where my hat is, yet?"

Emma's eyes widened, having forgotten the sole purpose for why she was there. Jefferson pushed open the door that lead into Regina's house then, and Emma followed behind him as she asked herself: _Where could his hat be? _Her feet stopped moving and her eyes fluttered shut as she envisioned walking down a dark hallway and then turning into a room that was shelved with many books. She swallowed as the vision ended there—leaving her without an exact destination. When she opened her eyes again, she found Jefferson's face within inches of her own, looking her over curiously.

"Well?" he asked somewhat impatiently.

Emma glared at his tone and then brushed past him as she walked towards a doorway that lead into a dark hall. Jefferson followed behind her until, suddenly, she stopped, and he nearly bumped into her. Having caught sight of something in the corner of her eye, Emma turned towards the open doorway she had stopped in front of.

"Look." she whispered.

Emma could feel the buttons of Jefferson's shirt brush against her back as he leaned-in closer to see what she was seeing. A dark smile curved at his lips as he caught sight of Regina standing in her study, looking out the window. Jefferson gave a huff of a laugh and then strolled into the room.

"We could end it all right here," he said as he swiped a letter opener off Regina's desk and walked up behind her.

"Jefferson!" Emma whisper-yelled at him, but he paid her no mind.

He drug the tip of the letter opener across Regina's shoulder as he rounded her.

"You said I don't have it in me," Jefferson spoke through his teeth as he lightly drug the sharp tip across her throat, "We'll see about that."

"Don't!"

Emma was about to pull-out her gun and tell him to stop, but he turned around and stabbed the letter opener into the frame of the window. Emma watched, then, as Jefferson leaned close to Regina's face, eyeing the frozen woman with the same intensity he gazed at her. His face was a hard mask as his eyes roamed over the Evil Queen.

"You'll get what's coming to you," his voice was filled with hatred, "Just you wait and see."

Jefferson walked away then—his nostrils were flaring and his lips were set in an angry pout. Emma matched his expression.

"What was that?" she demanded as she shoved a hand at his shoulder, stopping him from walking away.

His face softened the tiniest bit as his drowning blue eyes focused on Emma. Jefferson gave a frustrated shrug of his shoulders.

"Repressed anger," he muttered, "Let's find my hat and get out of here before I do something that causes you to shoot me."

Emma shot him a dark look and walked back into the hallway that would lead to room she had pictured in her mind. The room was a library of sorts—shelves lined the walls and books filled the shelves—and the hat was hidden somewhere.

"One of these books probably opens a hidden door," Jefferson said as he moved passed her and began pulling books from the shelves.

Emma watched him as he frantically grabbed for books and let them fall to the floor. She caught a glimpse of the reckless mad man who had kidnapped her in his desperation to have his hat. He was not the loving father who tugged at her heart strings. No. Inside Regina's house, Jefferson was the Mad Hatter.

"WHERE IS SHE HIDING IT?" he growled-out the words as he took his arm and cleared-out one whole row of books, sending them to the floor.

Emma watched as he emptied another shelf and she wondered what he planned to do with the hat.

"What are you gonna do when you find it?" Emma asked and Jefferson's back went ridged, "What—are you just gonna take your daughter and go back to your world? Is that it?"

Jefferson turned to look a her and his expression didn't deny her words. Emma shook her head at him.

"So, you're gonna force Grace to leave behind the people and the world she's come to know—all for your own satisfaction!"

Jefferson's jaw clenched and he stormed towards her until he was a breath away.

"Don't assume to know what I have planned!" he spoke through his teeth as his intense gaze scorched her eyes, "I'm not so selfish that I'd make a decision without her consent!"

"Right," Emma scoffed as she boldly looked into his eyes, "Because that's exactly what you did when you took Regina to Wonderland—you did it with Grace's consent."

Jefferson ground his teeth together as he stared daggers into the infuriating blonde woman who made his blood boil with anger and desire. He exhaled an angry breath then and placed a hand on Emma's shoulder before he pushed her back into one of the shelves. Emma gasped in protest, and then made a move to push him away, but the suddenly closeness of his face stopped her.

"Is that what Henry's book said?" he asked while his mouth was so close to hers that his breath tickled her lips, sending a shiver down her spine. "Is that it—the book makes me out to be a bad father?"

Emma swallowed under the sweltering heat of her rising temperature and her racing pulse as Jefferson gazed down at her through lowered eyelids.

"No," she replied, "It makes me out to be a gullible fool."

Jefferson braced an arm against the book shelf behind her as the hand on Emma shoulder slid down her arm until it was low enough to reach her hip. Emma sucked-in a jagged breath as his warm hand clung to her side.

"Hmm," he hummed as his body pressed against hers, pushing her back further into the shelves, "Gullible fool? I guess I've earned that."

Emma took-in another breath in preparation to say something, but Jefferson's lips pressed against hers—hot and soft and filled with longing. Emma exhaled the breath through her nose while her mouth was too busy to do so. Her hands fisted into his shirt then, planning on pushing him away, but as his lips moved against her own, igniting the sensitive nerves of her mouth and sending pleasure signals throughout her body—she pulled him closer. Her hands clung to his neck, threading fingers through his hair while her body arched up into his to breach whatever sliver of distance was between them. Her response had Jefferson's blood pumping and he groaned at the feel her body desperately pressing against his own. He forgot about his daughter. He forgot about his hat. He forgot about the magic that was holding Regina. All of his senses were trained on Emma. His hands gripped tighter at whatever he was holding as his tongue swept into her mouth to taste her. A small sound escaped from Emma while the hand on her hip, firmly, held her against him. A _shriek _escaped her as his other hand took a firm grip on a book and the shelf slid-out from behind her. With a heart-pounding start, Jefferson slipped his arm around Emma's waist, catching her before she fell to the floor. She hung suspended in a dip with her head tipped backwards and she could see the secret room that had, suddenly, opened-up behind her.

"Is that it?" she asked as she stared at an old hat box that was sitting inside of the room.

Jefferson gave a sigh of relief, and then he pulled Emma up from her dip so she could stand beside him.

"Yes," he replied as he still kept an arm around her, "That's my hat."

Emma stared at the strange old hat box, wondering and wondering what he would do with it now that he had it. Jefferson's eyes were not focused on the hat. He stared at Emma in wonder as his heart was still pounding from the way she had reacted to his kiss. His stillness caused Emma to glance up at him and she swallowed when she found that his eyes were not on his beloved hat.

"Emma, I don't plan on leaving," he confessed as he searched her eyes, "This world has more to offer Grace than our world ever did. Besides," he paused as a smile curved at his mouth, "It might even have something to offer me..."

Emma's lips parted as she gazed-up at him and Jefferson leaned-in to kiss her. His eyes closed tight as lips brushed against hers, pressing-in for just one kiss. He quickly pulled away then, remembering where he was and how unfortunate it would be if the golden man's magic wore-off and Regina caught them. Jefferson unwrapped his arm from around Emma, causing her to stagger in surprise of his quick movement. He grabbed his hat box, and then he grabbed for Emma's hand as he pulled her down the hallway and out of the Evil Queens home.

"I think we're going to be in trouble when she finds the mess you left behind."

Jefferson frowned at Emma's words, realizing it was probably true.

"Well," he spoke as they reached the car, "Hopefully I'll get to her before she gets to me—or anyone else."

Emma's eyes narrowed and she let go of his hand as he walked around to the passenger side.

"What do you mean "get to her"?"

Jefferson gave her a wry smile from over the top of her car before he slipped inside of it with his hat box. Emma quickly followed him so she could confront him about his evasiveness.

"WHAT are you going to do?" she demanded to know as she turned to him in her seat.

Jefferson gave a sigh as he leaned back in his.

"I have a plan, Emma," he said as he kept his eyes forward, looking out the windshield, "I've had a plan ever since magic came to Storybrooke."

Emma turned away from him and she glanced out the window at the house that was still glowing purple with magic.

"Does your plan involve harming people?"

Jefferson gave a dark laugh.

"By "people"—I assume you mean Regina?"

Emma shot him an obvious look as she started the car's engine. Jefferson shook his head at her.

"After all she has done—you still think of her as a person."

Emma shrugged her shoulders as she drove back to the apartment.

"_You_ kidnapped me. And you drugged me. And you pointed a gun at me. And still, I think of _you_ as a person."

Jefferson sighed in frustration as he rubbed a hand down his face, and then his eyes focused on the hat box that was sitting between his feet.

"It was bad judgment on my part," he confessed as his hands brushed over the familiar leather of the hat box, "I was a fool to even think that someone else could endow a hat with the same kind of magic this one possesses."

Emma took her eyes off the rode, momentarily, as she examined Jefferson and the hat box that suddenly held his attention. She thought to ask him about the kind of magic that the hat possessed and _who_ had possessed it in the first place. Yet, Emma decided that—if they were going to talk about anything—it needed to be about whatever this _thing_ was that was developing between them. Emma thought it was problematic. Jefferson didn't think about it all. Instead, his thoughts were on his "plan"...

_Step 1: Retrieve hat. _

_Check._

_Step 2: Liberate a person powerful enough to make "Step 3" a possibility._

It was the next item of business on Jefferson's to-do list.


	10. Return of the Witch

Chapter 10: Return of the Witch

His pockets were filled with silver and his coat was lined with the finest silk as he strolled through the market. His fellow merchants watched him pass with envy in their eyes as they took-in his fine attire and his prim appearance. The man carried a basket filled with the best tea leaves the market had to offer along with a wide variety of miniature cakes. His basket also held a fancy dress—the right size for a child—but his basket lacked the perfect birthday gift.

"That's some fine coverings you have there, Jefferson," the fur trader declared as he passed his booth, "Mushrooms must be in HIGH demand these days!"

The man laughed provokingly, and Jefferson halted, clenching his jaw at the sound of it. He realized as his eyes darted around the market that the other merchants were sending him dark glances from behind their booths. They were whispering about his appearance and how a "mere mushroom merchant" can't afford such finery.

"He's a cut-purse." Someone said.

"No. He's an informant for the Queen." Another suggested.

The truth was less common. Jefferson, on occasion, was a peddler of Worlds, and this latest occasion had given him the means to make his daughter's birthday a special one. After all, Grace was turning 7 and 7 was a lucky number. Jefferson's conviction to make her 7th birthday memorable were much stronger than his convictions to stop using his hat. He turned to the laughing man, then.

"You should worry less about my livelihood," he said loud enough so that the other merchants could hear, "And more about your own."

Jefferson stared at the fur trader unblinkingly, silencing him with a challenging glare. The man went back to arranging his pelts then, and with a frustrated sigh, Jefferson moved on in search of the toy cart.

"He's a meddler in the dark arts." Yet another merchant said as he passed them by.

Jefferson ignored their theories. All he wanted was to make his Grace's birthday as perfect as possible. A smile tugged at his lips as he saw the booth that was covered with stuffed animals and dolls and wooden puppets. He strode eagerly towards it before a hand latched on to his arm and pulled him into a shadowed alleyway. Jefferson spun angrily on his grabber, glaring threateningly until he caught sight of the woman standing before him. The beauty she had once possessed was nearly impossible to see in her aged face. Her face was haggard and the dark heavy bags under her eyes gave away the fact that she hadn't slept for a long while.

"Help me!" she demanded as she clung to his coat, "I need to get away from here, Jefferson! Use your hat! Take me to another world!"

With his basket uncomfortably caught in the crook of his arm, Jefferson pried the woman's hands away from his coat, letting her stumble back a step. He swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat from being in the presence of his wife's murderer.

"I wouldn't help you if the Queen offered me her castle and all of her riches."

"You must!" she enthused as she reached for him again, "She has been imprisoning witches and warlocks and other conjurers of magic! She wants our powers for herself! You are no safer than I! Get me away from here, Jefferson!"

He stepped back from the older woman. His eyes burned with angry tears and his jaw was clenched so tight that he thought his teeth might shatter. He had often dreamed of this moment—the moment when he'd meet Cora again. He had dreamed of killing her, but never had he imagined that she would come to him worn and desperate for help.

"What makes you think that you're safer from me than from her?" he spoke through his teeth as he glared into her eyes, "What makes you think that I wouldn't kill you for what you've done?"

Jefferson took a step towards her but Cora didn't flinch. Instead, she looked at his handsome face with something like pity.

"You don't have it in you, Jefferson. You never have. You never will."

He swallowed at her words and then he did the only thing he could think to do... He turned to walk away.

"HERE!" she cried, "Take this! You can have it if you help me!"

Curiosity made him turn around. The older woman held out a golden necklace in her hands. It was adorned with an emerald encrusted pendant—the gem was as big as Grace's fist! Cora's hands were shaking as she held the treasure out to him as if she didn't want to give it up. Jefferson couldn't deny that such a prize could be useful in making his life a little easier, but he didn't want anything from this woman. His eyes narrowed.

"No—"

The sound of galloping hooves drew Jefferson's attention passed the hooded, haggard woman and down the alleyway to where a dirt road could be seen. A horse drawn carriage, black as night, moved at blinding speed and the sound of a whiplash made Cora jump.

"Take it!" She demanded as she shoved the necklace into his hand and closed his fingers around it, "Quickly! You must get me to your hat!"

The galloping stopped and Cora's hands fell away from Jefferson. She turned to see the black carriage that had pulled to a stop in front of the alley. Jefferson's breath caught in his throat as the Queen emerged from it. Her eyes were as dark as the black corset she wore and the smile that crept onto her face was even darker.

"I'm surprised at you, mother," she declared as she stopped at the end of the alley, "Not using your powers to get what you want? It seems that you've lost your touch."

"No, daughter," she replied, "And unlike you, Regina, I know the proper time and place to use my powers."

Jefferson caught a flash of something wicked in Regina's eyes—something that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her.

"Hmm," she hummed, thoughtfully, as she pulled a glass vial from the folds of her skirt, "Clearly, you do not!"

A stream of purple smoke wafted from the vial and quickly surrounded Cora. She turned to Jefferson with urgency in her wide eyes and cried-out his name as the smoke pulled her into the air, dissolving her into the purple stream that was sucked back inside the vial. Regina popped a small cork inside the glass container and then gave it a little shake as she held it up to the light.

"I find that vials work the best for preservation," Regina said as she stared at it's swirling purple contents, "Mother, one day, you'll thank me for this. After all," she paused to place the vial back into the folds of her skirt, "You're certainly not getting any younger."

Her eyes turned on the man who was standing several feet away from her, then. He was finely dressed and well-groomed, but the worn, wicker basket that was caught in the crook of his arm didn't suit him. Regina smiled at him as she noticed the familiar gold chain that was clenched in his fist.

"May I offer you a ride?"

Jefferson looked down at the basket he was carrying.

"I have business to tend to in the market."

He turned around then and walked away, but his legs froze in mid-step. Regina gave an airy sigh.

"Do you really intend to turn down a considerate offer from your Queen?"

Jefferson blew-out a frustrated breath of air and faced her by his own will.

"I have something I need to buy at the market," he explained.

Regina's face lit-up at his words and she took a step aside.

"Tell me what it is and it shall be yours," she replied as she beckoned for him to step inside of her carriage.

Jefferson pursed his lips and his eyebrows lowered in suspicion as he examines her.

"Where are you offering me a ride to?"

"Where ever you would like," she replied, "Though I assume you'll want to be heading home to your daughter."

Regina smiled and then turned her back on him as she climbed back into her carriage. Jefferson shifted his weight from foot to foot as he debated whether or not he should trust a ride from the daughter of his enemy. Ultimately, and to the Queen's delight, he followed her into the carriage.

"So tell me, Jefferson," she began as he set his basket down inside and placed the necklace on top of it, "What is it that you _need_?"

He raised an eyebrow at the way she over emphasized the word, and before he could take a seat beside her—the carriage door closed and they took off! Jefferson was knocked forwards at the unexpected motion, nearly landing on top of Regina. His hands braced the carriage walls at the sides of her head and his face was mere inches away from hers. He held himself there as he saw the smile in her dark eyes—it was a mischievous look that told him that she had planned this. Jefferson looked her over from his new vantage point. His eyes darted from hers to her red lips to her lovely expanse of cleavage. Jefferson's unimpressed gaze met hers again.

"What do you want from me?" he asked as he leaned the slightest bit closer.

Regina's mouth curved into a smile and she dipped her head under his arm, bending downwards. Jefferson quickly backed away and then settled into the spot beside her as he watched her reach for the fallen necklace.

"I want this," she declared as she displayed the necklace in the palm of her hand.

Jefferson glanced at it with disinterest and gave a shrug of his shoulders as he looked at her face.

"I have no interest in keeping it."

"Really?" Regina sounded surprised as her eyes curiously danced over his face, "Do you have any idea what this is?"

Jefferson watched as she held the necklace up, letting it dangle and swing in the air as the carriage moved along.

"Something that would fetch a nice price at the market."

Regina laughed at his words and her hand fell onto Jefferson's knee. He flinched at her touch and his eyes flew to hers in surprise. The fire and intensity she saw in his blue gaze she mistook for passion and she leaned towards him as her hand slid-up to his thigh. Jefferson sucked-in a breath and his eyes held fast to hers. It had been a long time since he had felt the touch of a woman, and in spite of his more basest instinct, the rational part of his brain told him to beware of this one. Regina's hand moved from his thigh and slid over the buttons of his waistcoat, causing Jefferson to clench his jaw in restraint.

"It's an amulet," she breathed the words and he gazed down at her parted lips, "It holds her power, Jefferson. With it,you could have controlled her. With your will and her way—you would have been unstoppable."

Her heaving bosom was pressed against his chest then and he clenched his fists at his sides, fighting off the urge to touch her.

"It would have even made you unstoppable against me," she whispered and her breath tickled his mouth.

Her parted lips crushed against his then, and she pressed her body into him, dropping the amulet from her hand as she clung to his hair. Jefferson let-out out a muffled groan from beneath her lips and his hands gripped the tops of her arms, pushing her away. Their chests were heaving from their quickened pulses and their gazes were filled with heated passion. Jefferson passionately distrusted this woman.

"Is there any reason why I might need to be _unstoppable_ against you?"

Regina quickly righted herself, removing any traces of emotion from her face as she went back to her side of the carriage.

"Of course not," she assured him as her expression softened, "Neither you nor your daughter have anything to fear from me. Haven't I proved that to you before?"

Jefferson swallowed as he held her gaze, remembering how she had given them the chance to escape from Cora. Jefferson glanced out the carriage window at the familiar passing scenery, but despite the memory of her helpfulness—he couldn't stop himself from being callous towards Regina.

"Forgive me for being suspicious, your majesty, but I've always believed that the apple never falls far from the tree."

The carriage suddenly pulled to a stop and Jefferson glanced over at the silently, fuming woman. Her red lips were pressed together in a frown and a threat lurked behind her dark eyes as she glared at him.

"I've imprisoned men for less than that."

Jefferson shrugged his shoulders as his hand reached for the amulet she had dropped. Regina watched him as he moved closer, holding the chain of the necklace in both of his hands. His eyes stared unblinkingly into hers as he raised his arms and slipped the amulet over her head, letting it fall into the cradle of her breasts. Gently he reached his hands behind her neck and pulled her long dark hair free from the chain. By then, the threat had disappeared from Regina's eyes and was replaced with something even more threatening...lust. Jefferson's face drew nearer to hers and her eyes fluttered shut in anticipation of a kiss.

"Imprisonment?" he scoffed-out the word and Regina's eyes flew open, "I've been through worse."

Quickly, he picked up his basket and pushed his way out of the carriage. Regina gaped after him, feeling both offended and exhilarated by his action. Her lip curled as she watched him walk away to his hovel of a home, and she knew that the rumors were true. Jefferson had given-up his life as a full-time magician for his daughters sake. Regina surmised, then, that the item he had wanted to pick-up from the market was probably for his daughter.

"Jefferson, wait!" she called to him from the carriage and he turned around, "Here, give this to your daughter."

A cloud of purple smoke exploded in thin air and a doll appeared in Regina's hands. The doll wore a pink dress and a pink, pointed hat sat on top of her head. Jefferson eagerly crossed the distance between them to retrieve the toy. A smile curved at his lips as he took the doll from her hands.

"Grace will love it," he said as he examined the toy, "Today's her 7th birthday."

"Seven," Regina repeated, "Seven's a lucky number."

Jefferson glanced up into her eyes, wondering if there was some catch to the gift. He decided that he didn't want to give her that opportunity.

"Farewell, Regina," he said in hopes of never seeing her again.

His informal way of addressing her paired with the finality of "farewell" jolted her. She swallowed as she stared at him, examining his handsome face. He was done with her, but she wasn't so sure that she was done with him.

"Farewell, Jefferson," she replied as she reached out a hand for the carriage door, "Farewell...for now."

The carriage door slammed shut then, and Jefferson took a step back as he watched the black carriage disappear down the dirt road. He was left with an unsettling feeling at her words. He imagined that she would plan to use him sometime in the future—just as her mother had. Jefferson sighed as he glanced down at the doll and the basket he held in his arms. He knew what he had to do. He had to put his hat away, and this time, he had to put it away...forever.

* * *

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**A/N: This chapter made me discover that I'm a closeted "Mad Queen" shipper... *shrugs* What can I say? They're both sexy and have a delicious dark side. Hee, hee.**

**Thanks for reading! Now I have to go search for some ****"Mad Queen"** fics...  



	11. The Madhouse

Chapter 11: The Madhouse

Emma cut-off the engine and hit the locks on the doors before Jefferson could get out. They had just broken into Regina's house, shared a kiss that made her question her own sanity and retrieved his infamous hat. To say that "they needed to talk" was an understatement! Jefferson's head turned towards Emma and he noted the tension in her shoulders and the furrow on her brow. She was clearly wrestling herself over something that—from what Jefferson imagined—wasn't worth the effort.

"I don't even know where to start, or what THIS even is," she began as she gestured between the two of them, "It's circumstantial infatuation! That's what it is! That's ALL that it is. I'm just caught-up in the moment of these extremely weird circumstances. That's it. And you—"

"Emma, stop," Jefferson cut her off as his hand slipped behind her neck and he pulled her towards him, "Stop analyzing everything."

Emma sighed—not so much from his words as from the warmth of his hand against her neck. Jefferson's blue eyes searched her green ones, ensuring that he had her attention.

"You're too concerned with finding a logical explanation for everything," he continued as the hand at the back of her neck pulled her even closer, "Some things have no rhyme or reason. We're drawn to one another, Emma. Just accept it. "

Jefferson pulled her face towards his then, and he placed a kiss on her cheek before his hand left the back of her neck. Emma fell forwards as Jefferson swiftly exited the car, toting his hat box. She panted-out a breath and glared after him—not so much from his too-chaste kiss as from the general way he affected her. He was shifty. He was unstable, and Emma honestly didn't know anything about him. She narrowed her eyes at the way he sauntered into her apartment as if he owned the place. Emma chalked it up to the fact that his daughter was inside of it. She leaned back into her seat, then. _His. Daughter._ Emma's back jolted straight as an idea struck her...

.

* * *

.

"Has your father ever painted your nails?" Emma casually asked Grace as she brushed the pink polish over the little girls fingernails.

Snow White shot her daughter a suspicious look from her spot at the end of the bed while Grace smiled politely.

"No," she replied, "In our world, only wealthy people had things like that."

Emma shut her eyes and internally kicked herself for asking the stupid question.

"Oh," she muttered awkwardly before clearing her throat, "So! What kinds of things did you do together? Did your dad ever take you to another world? Did he ever make visits to special friends without taking you?"

Snow White winced at that last question as she tried to paint her own fingernails. Grace took note of the uncomfortable expression on her former teacher's face, and then her eyes curiously looked to Emma.

"Sheriff Swan?" Grace asked as she gazed-up at the woman with the same sort of perception Emma had seen in Jefferson's eyes, "Do you like my dad?"

Snow White nearly spilled her bottle of nail polish on to the mattress.

.

* * *

.

In the living room, Henry sat down between the two bored-looking men who were watching TV on the couch. To his left was the sword-wielding prince who'd seen more action than an action movie star, and to his right was the portal-hopping hatter who'd seen more worlds than the characters from _Star Trek_. Henry was a little disappointed that the two men had suddenly been reduced to couch potatoes. The boy gave a sigh and his eyes glanced away from the television to cautiously gaze-up at Jefferson. With a clench of his jaw, the man—who had been silently scheming—glanced down into a pair of curious brown eyes.

"People thought that I was crazy too," Henry confessed out-of-the-blue.

Prince James quirked an eyebrow from behind the boy while Jefferson stared at him for a moment.

"People who assume things are often wrong," he replied.

Henry gave a sigh and nodded his head in agreement.

"Besides," Jefferson muttered to himself as he leaned back into the couch, staring blankly at the TV, "Regina has a knack for making people crazy."

Prince James shot the other man a guarded look.

.

* * *

.

Night had fallen. Hours had passed and all 6 inhabitants of the small apartment were in their places of rest. Emma didn't sleep. She had come no closer to unraveling the mystery of Jefferson than she had been before interviewing his daughter. Jefferson didn't sleep. He was waiting for the right moment to make his next move. As his daughter murmured beside him—lost in a deep dream-filled sleep—Jefferson knew that the right moment had come. He placed a kiss on Grace's forehead and retrieved his hat box as he walked towards the door. Emma's heart started as she heard the familiar sound of the dead bolt unlocking. As she laid in bed, she strained her ears, listening to the sound of the front door being quietly closed behind someone. She knew instantly that it was Jefferson. _Who else would be so sneaky?_ Emma was sick and tired all of his secrecy, and so, she decided to follow him...

.

* * *

.

Jefferson walked hurriedly down the dark sidewalks of Storybrooke. His long gait was fast with determination as he carried his hat box in tow. He had waited long enough—much longer than 28 years—to have a working hat in his possession again. He couldn't wait another day to see his plan through. Despite the comfortable lifestyle this world offered him. Despite the magic that was mounting between he and Emma. Despite being reunited with his precious daughter, hissweet Grace. All of it was soured by Regina's presence and nothing good would ever be safe so long as she was around. He entered Storybrooke General Hospital, knowing that there was a chance that he wouldn't come out alive once he set things in motion, but it was something he had to do. He managed to pass through the hospital halls without seeing a single soul. It didn't surprise him. The people of Storybrooke stayed indoors these days, battening down the hatches—so to speak—as they waited for the bomb to drop. The "bomb" being Regina. Jefferson passed a large mirror in the hallway, catching a glimpse of his reflection before he found the familiar keypad that years of boredom had led him to decipher. With a few quick punches, the door opened and Jefferson proceeded down into the basement of the hospital.

.

* * *

.

"My Queen!" the face in the mirror repeated for the second time, sounding more urgent.

Regina grunted as she jerked the letter opener from the frame of her window—the letter opener that someone with an obvious death-wish had placed there.

"WHAT?" she spat.

The man who had recently found himself imprisoned in a padded cell, now found himself imprisoned back inside of a mirror. His eyes fearfully glanced downward as his Queen turned to face him.

"He's in the psychiatric ward again."

Regina's red lips set in an angry pout as the face in the mirror burst into a cloud of blue smoke, fading away to show a glimpse of the man with the ever-prevalent, haunted expression. Regina's eyes narrowed and her lip curled as she watched him walk past one of the hospital mirrors.

"What are you up to, Jefferson?"

.

* * *

.

Emma tried pressing her weight against the door he had gone into—although she knew it was pointless. The door with the "exit" sign pasted on it did not budge. Emma placed her hands on her hips as she examined the electronic keypad, contemplating whether or not she should try to punch-in a few random numbers.

"Why the hell does a hospital exit need a password?" she bitterly asked herself.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps turned in her direction, and Emma quickly sought-out cover inside of an empty room. She peeked through the crack of the door as the footsteps passed her, noting that it was only a nurse. With a sigh, she glanced around the empty hospital room she had found herself in, and she decided to wait there until Jefferson came back through the suspicious "exit" door.

.

* * *

.

Storybrooke's madhouse had changed since the last time Jefferson had visited. There was no sour-faced nurse waiting at the foot of the stairs. There was no mindless patient compulsively mopping the floor. Many of the cells were empty. Their iron doors were left wide-open as if the inmates had left in a rush and Jefferson imagined that they had. He had unlocked all of their cells—except for one. Jefferson walked through the turning hallways of the hospital basement, carrying his hat box as he headed towards a dark, dead end. Around the last corner, a broken florescent light dangled from the ceiling, shedding no light on the heavy metal door that seemed forgotten. Jefferson hadn't forgotten it though. He had had an ample amount of time to investigate all areas of Storybrooke—especially the restricted areas. He had seen the faces of every person Regina kept hidden away and he remembered one face in particular. _Cora. _

Jefferson placed his hat box on the floor as he inserted the key into the lock. Once the door was unbolted, it took a considerable amount of strength to pull it ajar as if it had been closed for a long time. The bolts on the door screeched from being turned, and then, with one last tug, the door was open. Jefferson's dark adjusted eyes squinted at the assaulting light coming through a small, barred window. A motionless figure was lying on a cot—back turned to the door. Jefferson stepped inside the room, noting the rise and fall of the resting figure's shoulders. She was awake.

"Do you know who you are?" Jefferson asked.

The woman's head rose from her pillow at the sound of his voice but she did not turn over to see him.

"Does a rich man know of his riches?" she countered, "Of course I know who I am. I know who _you_ are as well."

Jefferson watched as the aged woman slowly shifted her legs off the side of the cot so she could face him. Her tangled brown hair was dusted with gray and her face was as haggard as it had been the last time he had seen her.

"Have you come to kill me, Jefferson? Has your time in this world made you hard enough to do it?"

His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched at her words, but he didn't respond. He turned his back on her so he could retrieve his hat box from the hallway. Cora watched as he sat it down in the middle of her room and opened its lid to reveal the familiar looking hat. They both took-in a breath at the sight of it—emotions and memories of times long past filling their heads.

"What are you doing?" Cora asked, bracing her hands against her mattress as Jefferson knelt to the floor.

His eyes closed tight as he held the hat in his hands, guiding it with his mind to a specific moment in his past. With a flick of his wrist, the hat dropped to the floor with a spin and it kept spinning. Cora's eyes widened and she cautiously stood to her feet as she watched the spinning hat. The hat opened-up a small portal in the floor then, and suddenly, a golden necklace with an emerald pendant rose from the depths of the black hole. Jefferson took it in his fist and his eyes flashed to Cora.

"You once offered me this amulet," he said as he stood from his kneeling position, "I didn't know of its value back then, but now, I do."

Cora's eyes were filled with longing and she even reached-out a hand to touch her treasured necklace. Jefferson quickly looped it over his head, allowing it to fall around his neck, and the woman frowned.

"You plan to use my powers against me," she surmised as her frown exaggerated the lines of her face.

Jefferson shrugged and gave the aged woman a bored look.

"More or less," he replied as he took a step away from her, "Putting it more aptly—you are going to be the puppet, and I, the puppeteer. "

His attentions turned to his un-boxed hat, and then he shot Cora a meaningful look.

"Put it back and carry it," he commanded her as the amulet around his neck emitted a green glow.

With a gasp, Cora's hands raised against her own will and the hat lifted off the floor to settle inside of its container. No sooner had the lid closed on the hat box that it flew across the room—the handle slipping into Cora's hand with the attraction of two magnets. Jefferson smiled—it was a smile filled with dark mirth and Cora swallowed at the sight of it. Suddenly, she regretted ever meeting the bright-eyed little boy with the over-sized top hat.

"Magic has tainted you, Jefferson," she muttered and he shot her a threatening look.

His jaw clenched at her words and his nostrils flared angrily.

"Tell _that_ to your daughter," he spoke through his teeth.

Cora didn't have the time to respond as he exited the room, pulling her along behind him as if by some invisible chain.

.

* * *

.

The sound of a door opening had Emma bolt upright from her chair. She crossed the empty hospital room to the door and peeked into the hallway. Jefferson was walking away with some older woman following behind him. Emma's eyebrows lowered suspicious at the woman's hospital-issued clothing and the fact that she was carrying Jefferson's _precious_ hat box.

"Hey!" she called after him as she marched out of the room.

Jefferson stopped at the sound of her voice and let-out a frustrated sigh.

"What's going on?" she demanded as she approached him and the woman who looked like an escaped mental patient.

Jefferson turned around to face her and his expression was grim.

"Go home, Emma."

She made a face at him and her eyes turned to the mystery woman.

"Hi, I'm Emma. We haven't met," she said as she stuck her hand out.

Cora made no move to shake the woman's hand, but her mouth opened to respond.

"I—"

"No talking." he ordered her and the amulet glowed green.

Emma noticed it and her gaze met Jefferson's, seeking for answers in his blue eyes.

"What's that?" she asked with a hint of concern in her voice, "And WHO is she?"

Jefferson groaned and turned on his heel, striding-off without answering her. Cora followed after him, unnaturally, and Emma gaped at the odd pair. She stood in the hallway, immobilized by her confusion and the overall fatigue that was finally catching up with her. It was the early hours of the morning, where the sky was still pitch black and you could expect to get only the bare-minimum of sleep needed to survive a work day. Emma stormed out of the hospital after Jefferson, wanting to complain about his evasiveness and her lack of sleep over it, but she nearly walked straight into his back.

Jefferson stood in front of her with the hat-box-carrying woman at his side. They were both staring straight ahead—eyes fixed on something attention-grabbing. Emma looked over Jefferson's shoulder, and there, standing in the middle of the street, was the town's mayor. Her face was set in a familiar scowl, but she had abandoned her usually conservative sense of fashion. Her short hair was smoothed back in a sleek style and she wore a black corset that exposed a shocking amount of skin. Emma quirked an eyebrow at the mayor's appearance while Regina's eyes lingered on the mystery woman.

"I see you still have a few tricks up your sleeve, Jefferson," she commented as she shot him a deadly look.

Jefferson's eyes gave a quick sweep over her body.

"I see you still have an affinity for displaying your undergarments."

Regina's eyes narrowed threateningly at his words and her fists clenched at her sides.

"I should have left you in Wonderland!" she hissed through her teeth.

Jefferson's jaw clenched at the mere mention of that place_._

"No," he disagreed, "I just should have never taken you there."


	12. Pool of Tears

Chapter 12: Pool of Tears

The Queen and her father turned their back on Jefferson as they approached the looking glass, planning to leave Wonderland together—just the two of them. Jefferson reached-out a hand as if to stop them, but he was too stumped to move forward.

"You knew that only _two_ could go through the hat," he spoke as the reality of what was happening began to dawn on him.

Regina turned around. She was beautiful and dark and every bit her mother's daughter as she looked at him with a cold, uncaring expression. Jefferson huffed-out a breath in disbelief.

"...which is why you didn't tell me about your father."

Regina stared at him with dark eyes that were neither ashamed or apologetic.

"It was the only way to make sure you'd help me."

Jefferson lunged for her, planning to either strangle her or wrestle his way through them to get to the looking glass. Neither happened. The ground below him opened up, swallowing his feet and he couldn't move. The Queen and her father turned away once more as Jefferson struggled against his trap.

"Wait! WAIT!" he yelled as they drew nearer to the looking glass.

"Wait," his plea was quieter and filled with a hopelessness that made Regina stop, "Wait. Please!"

Something in Regina's brow tensed with sympathy and her red lips turned down in a pout as she swallowed at the sound of his familiar plea. _PLEASE!_ It triggered the memory of watching as her own mother threw Jefferson's wife into a black-hole—into nothingness.

"My daughter," he pleaded and the word struck a cold chord in Regina's heart.

Her sympathy waned. _Hadn't she already given him the chance to keep his daughter? Hadn't she given them the chance to escape from her mother?_

"My Grace," he explained, "She's waiting for me. I promised her I'd be home for tea."

Regina spun on him, thrashing around in her dress so she could face him.

"A PROMISE which you now have broken!" her tone was acidic and it burned at Jefferson's insides.

He stared at her with parted, breathless lips and eyes that were wide with his desperation. Helpless. Hopeless. Regina was unaffected by it. She took a step towards him as her cruel red lips twisted into a scowl.

"If you truly cared for your daughter," she hissed as she leaned towards him, "You never would have left her in the first place!"

Jefferson's chest heaved with jagged breaths as he acknowledged the truth in her words. He had left his daughter, his Grace. It had been _his_ choice. Jefferson's eyes were wet as he swallowed down a lump that had risen in his throat. He saw his daughter's sweet face in his mind and was plagued with the words: _"All I need is you, papa"_. Regina looked at him as if she was disgusted.

"You were right, Jefferson," she baited him, wanting to twist the knife she had already stabbed into his heart, "You don't abandon family."

She walked away then and Jefferson was left, gaping after her. His heart breaking as he realized what a mistake he had made. His pulse quickened as he watched the pair move through the looking glass.

"NOOO!" he yelled and they disappeared through the surface of the fluidic mirror, leaving him behind in Wonderland.

"No," he breathed the word as his heart sunk to the ground, pulling so heavily on his insides that it was hard to breath.

Reality washed over Jefferson then, as he stared at the looking glass, knowing he could never go through it. He would never see Grace again. And, what would become of her? Who would take care of her? What would she think of him—the father that had abandoned her and left her all alone in their world? He thought all of these things and it left him oblivious to what was going on around him—the marching feet of guards and the order to "take him to the queen". The color had drained from his skin before that moment, and the air might as well have drained from his lungs because he saw no hope of going home. Jefferson was utterly numb as they dragged him away, taking him to the Queen of Hearts where he unknowingly would be beheaded...

.

* * *

.

A grand hallway with many doors and impossibly high-ceilings soared above them as they marched onward. Jefferson's head swung to and fro as a member of the Queen's guard kept a grip on his hair. The Headsman led the way, dragging Jefferson's motionless body behind him as if it were a child's toy attached to a string. They were taking him to see the Court Header—some unseen individual whose occupation was one that Jefferson could only imagine.

"Here!" the Headsman grunted as he pulled open a door and then tossed the headless body inside of it, allowing it to slid across the floor.

Jefferson winced from seeing his lower half being treated so roughly, but he didn't feel a thing. The masked Headsman moved out of the way then, while the other guard carried Jefferson inside of a room that was clearly set aside for sewing. The sounds of a struggle and the strained-grunts of a man could be heard before Jefferson saw the Court Header.

"You're a sturdy one," a little man—who was half Jefferson's size—commented as he situated the headless body on a chair, "Bet the girls go head over heels for you!"

The little man laughed at his own joke as he positioned Jefferson's hands in his lap. The guard came to a stop behind him then, and impatiently cleared his throat.

"Oh!" the little man hiccuped before turning around, "There you are!"

Jefferson's eyes widened as the little man's hands reached-out towards his face and took hold of his cheeks.

"I am the Header," he introduced himself as he held Jefferson's head at eye-level, "And I will get you back on top in no time!"

The Header laughed again and Jefferson gave a frustrated sigh. He had just been tricked by Regina, beheaded by the Headsman, and his only odds of seeing his daughter again were to make a magical hat. Jefferson didn't have the patience to deal with a Wonderlandian with a sense of humor.

"What are you going to do?" Jefferson asked as he glanced around the room, seeing what he could see without the luxury of turning his neck, "Needles and thread. You're planning to sew my head back on with a needle and thread. Wh—"

"Relax," the little man said as he placed Jefferson back onto his neck, "I can do this job standing on my head!"

The Header snorted-out a laugh and Jefferson clenched his jaw. He hated Wonderland and Regina had damned him to stay there. From his new viewpoint atop his neck, Jefferson looked around and noticed that the guards had left the room.

"Hey," he called to the little man who was busy threading a needle, "Do you know a way out of here—out of Wonderland, I mean?"

The Queen of Hearts had somehow managed to kidnap Regina's father from their world so there had to be another way out! Some way other than the White Rabbit's hole and the mirror. The Header gave Jefferson a sharp look.

"You must think I'm some kind of head case," he replied with a laugh, "But I'm sane enough to know what will happen if I get caught helping you."

Jefferson sighed and the little man moved towards him with a sharp, shiny needle in his hand.

"If the Queen even heard you ask me such a question—heads would roll!" the Header gave another laugh, "And if I lost my head—who would there be to reattach it?"

The little man pulled-up a stepping stool so he could better reach Jefferson's neck and Jefferson looked him over with an intense gaze.

"I'm skilled with a needle, myself," he retorted and the little man stepped back.

"Whoa, ho, ho!" he exclaimed with wide eyes, "Look who's got the big head! Is it your plan to relieve me of my title..._Hatter_?"

Jefferson's eyes blinked at the name and the Header took the opportunity to pass his needle through the beheaded man's flesh. Jefferson winced, expecting pain, but there was none. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he met the little mans gaze.

"No," he replied while the Header pulled the thread taut, "I no more wish to relieve you of your title than I wish assume _that _one. My name is Jefferson."

"Doesn't matter," the Header quickly said as he passed the needle through again, "Here, you are what you are, or, you are what you do. You'd be out of your head to call yourself by any other title than Hatter. And didn't the Queen tell you to make a hat?"

_Get it to work. _Jefferson replayed his orders in his mind as the Header continued to stitch his head back onto his body. Jefferson doubted his chances of being able to make a hat that would have magic. Of course, he never would have believed that a beheading would be painless. Maybe he _could_ make a hat that would work!

"I have to make a hat that will get me back to my world—to my daughter, my Grace," he said as his eyes went unfocused and he thought of his task at hand, going over in his mind how he would make the hat.

The Header shook his head as he noticed the lost look in the Hatter's eyes. It was the same look everyone got once their cut-off head was reattached. It changed people, somehow. The Header laughed.

"Well, don't go banging your head against a wall trying to make the right hat!"

"I have to," Jefferson replied as he stared at the little man with his intense blue gaze, "I have to for Grace."

The little man finished the last few stitches and then stepped down from his stepping stool. Slowly, Jefferson regained feeling in his limbs and he found the agility to stand. The Header tilted his head back so he could look up at the man who had to make a hat.

"Keep a cool head," he gave his last bit of advice and Jefferson merely stared at him, "If you keep doing the same thing and expect a different result—you'll go insane and you won't be the _Hatter_ anymore."

Jefferson rolled his eyes at the little man's words.

"What will I be then?"

The Header walked towards the door where the guards were waiting on the other side, and he held it open for Jefferson as he held the young man's gaze.

"You'll be the _Mad _Hatter."

.

* * *

.

Time passed differently in Wonderland than it did in the Enchanted Forest. Hours felt like weeks. Days felt like years. And Jefferson had made enough hats to fill-up entire castles. None of the hats worked, and yet, he continued making them, reciting his mantra of: "Get it to work. Get it to work."

Countless times he had passed his needle through felt, making hats that weren't and would never be _magic_. Occasionally, the needle would even prick his finger as he furiously continued to sew. He wished for blood. He wished for pain. He wished that—for just a moment—he could feel something real, but it never happened. He made hats. He made hats that weren't magic. That's what he did.

And then, one day, as he was taking his tea break—something changed. He experienced a moment of something-like-sanity where he believed that the portal that had, suddenly, opened-up in the floor was only the effect of drinking too much tea. _Too much tea turns the mind to pee! _And Jefferson cursed himself for turning to the very drink his wife had so hated. And what would Grace think? Jefferson pushed his tea cup away and stood-up from his table, making sure not to look at the portal that was definitely not there. Just as he decided to go back to making hats, a familiar voice echoed from deep inside of that portal. The voice stopped him in his tracks. It was a voice he had never hoped to hear, and for _her _own good, she would do well to keep away from him.

"Jefferson," she called to him and he felt a pull to go inspect the portal, "Jefferson, you can come home now."

He walked towards the black hole that had embedded itself in his floor by some force he didn't know.

"Jefferson," she called to him again and he went down on his knees, teetering over the edge of the portal.

He should have jumped-in immediately. He should have been so grateful to leave behind the maddening world he'd found himself trapped in again. But, at the same time, the repetitiveness of making hats had become like a safety blanket—it was the only comfort he had left.

"Grace is here," the voice taunted him, and with a heart pounding start, Jefferson dove into the portal, falling the familiar fall through blackness as if it were his hat he had fallen into.

His eyes were wide-open as his feet floated to the floor. He was in a room like one he'd never seen. There were hats and other objects on lighted shelves. There were windows that over-looked a strange town. Jefferson's hand reached-out to touch an odd device with square-shaped knobs on the front of it, but he was stopped. Through the window, he saw a light emanate from the center of the town and then shoot-out like a shock wave. It moved through the walls of the room and hit him like a blast of air. Jefferson stumbled back and pressed a hand to his forehead as if he had a headache. His eyes closed

for a moment and when he opened them again he knew the name of the "odd device with the square-shaped knobs". It was a stereo. He also knew that such technological advancements didn't exist in _his_ world.

"What has she done?" he asked himself as he drug a hand through his hair, gripping at the ends.

He had new memories in his head—memories of not being a father that conflicted with his memories of Grace. He walked towards the window where a telescope was sitting and he had the strongest urge to look through it. He leaned forward and pressed his eye to the lens. The telescope was pointed directly at someone's kitchen window, and just as he moved to look away, his daughter sat down at the table.

A breath of air rushed from his lungs and his knees gave like he could fall. His hands gripped hold of the telescope just to give him something to hold-on to as he watched his daughter. She was just as he had left her, maybe a hairsbreadth older, but she was his same Grace. He couldn't look away—not even as a familiar couple from his past sat down at the table with her. The man and woman were the kindly neighbors who had often taken care of Grace. Jefferson's grip tightened on the telescope. With his new memories and what he knew of Regina's tact—he realized that their neighbors were now Grace's parents. Jefferson looked away so his eyes could focus on the telescope itself, and with what he knew of Regina's cruelty—he realized that the strategically placed telescope was meant to be his only link to his daughter.


	13. Actions and Consequences

Chapter 13: Actions and Consequences

"Just what are you going to do, _Jefferson_?" Regina spit-out his name as she strolled towards him—the heels of her boots clicking against the asphalt, "What—your not man enough to kill me so you recruited _these_ two to do the job?"

Emma glared at the mayor's words and then took a step forward as if she'd get-in-her-face, but Jefferson beat her to it...

"No," he replied as he leaned towards Regina at a proximity that made Emma uncomfortable, "I plan to have your mother strip you of your powers."

Regina's lips curved-up with wicked amusement as her eyes danced over his face. She gave a hearty laugh that rang-out like hollowed chimes into the night. Jefferson's eyes narrowed. He pulled a golden necklace out from underneath the collar of his shirt—a golden necklace with an emerald pendant. Regina stopped laughing and her eyes widened.

"How did you—"

"Shhh," he hushed her, pressing a finger against his lips while his other hand beckoned to Cora.

Cora's hands rose against her will, sending a stream of green smoke towards her daughter. Jefferson stepped back and pushed Emma further behind him as Regina raised her own hands, blocking her mothers strike. Green and purple magic collided together, struggling against one another in a witchcraft wrestling match. Cora pushed back with boundless force, causing a cloud of green smoke to move through her daughter that left her helpless against the magic binds that quickly encircled her. Regina struggled against her restraints as if she was that same young woman who had been helpless in the face of her mother's disciplinary actions.

"Just like old times, isn't it mother?" Regina hissed as she glared at the aged woman, "You must be enjoying this—seeing me bend under the force of your power. I'm sure you've dreamed of this moment for decades!"

Jefferson bent down and pulled his hat from its box while the mother and daughter argued. Emma merely stood back and took it all in, trying to make sense of what was happening. _I'm the Sheriff, dammit! I should do something! _But Emma suspected that her gun was no match for magic and that—to these people—her badge gave her about as much authority as a High School hall monitor.

"I have only dreamed of what I would say to you given the chance," Cora replied as she held her daughters gaze, "Over the years—being imprisoned in one way or another—I had time to realize just how much that stable boy meant to you..."

Regina's breath caught in her throat and she stared unblinkingly at her mother.

"Seeing how strongly his death affected you—I grew remorseful over how I handled the situation," Regina swallowed at her mother's words and her eyes glistened with tears, "I should have kept him as my pet and used him to unsure your subservience!"

Regina let-out a growl as she struggled more violently against her restraints.

"Enough!" Jefferson spoke with such authority that the two woman fell silent.

He glanced between the two of them as he walked to the center of the ghostly, empty street and knelt down. He gave his hat the familiar spin that both excited him and filled him with dread. _Pleasures and miseries._ Very soon he'd have revenge. The hat accelerated its spinning, striking-up a whirlwind that tugged at his clothes. Jefferson turned his back to it as his eyes sought-out the face of the one person among them who hadn't seem his hat trick. He walked towards Emma while the two impotent witches waited for his next command.

"Emma," he breathed her name with all the warmth and pleading a voice could possibly possess, "Please. Go home to Henry. Go home to your bed and sleep."

Emma's eyebrows lowered as she stepped-up to him, putting herself in the kind of proximity he seemed to respond to.

"No," she gave him a firm retort, "Don' t do this—whatever _this_ is. You've taken away her power. Great! Let the rest of the town decide what to do with Regina. You're not the only one she's wronged!"

Jefferson raised a hand to her cheek and slipped his hand behind her neck. Regina took note of how Emma didn't flinch away. _Hmm._ She thought conspiratorially. _Ms. Swan doesn't know what he's done._

"Regina's wronged everyone. I know that, Emma," he said as his blue gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her convictions waver, "But few people in this town have the means—that I have—to bring her to justice."

His hand fell away from her, leaving behind a lingering warmth as he walked off. Emma's eyes widened as she noticed the swirling black hole that had appeared in the middle of the street. She stood immobile while Jefferson gripped the arms of Regina and Cora and lead them to the edge of the hole. He stood between the two women, saying something to them that Emma couldn't hear over the loud, rushing sound of the whirlwind. Emma took-in a sharp breath as she watched the three of them jump into the hole.

"Jefferson!" she yelled in an almost scolding tone as she lunged forward a step.

Her heart pounded fast as she saw the black hole start to close, and despite her slight fear of the unknown—Emma ran and leaped into the closing portal.

The fall through blackness had her screaming and when she suddenly found herself being lowered, slowly, towards the floor—she didn't feel any less panicked. Emma glanced at her surroundings, taking-in the large, whimsical-looking room that was filled with strange doors. Her eyes were wide and curious as she looked around. Jefferson sighed as he saw her feet touch the floor.

"You shouldn't have followed me, Emma." his voice was low and filled with carefully controlled anger.

"And why not?" Regina interrupt, "Afraid she'll find out just what kind of man you are?"

Jefferson advanced on the woman, putting himself directly before her.

"I've striped you of your power—would you like me to strip you of your tongue?"

Regina's chin lifted defiantly, drawing her face closer to Jefferson's until only a mere inch separated them. Again, their proximity made Emma uncomfortable and she wondered if something had once existed between them to drew them so close together. Regina smiled in Jefferson's face.

"I'm surprised the sheriff is an acquaintance of yours at all—let alone your _sweetheart_."

Jefferson swallowed and turned away from her so he could look at Emma. No one had yet to put a name on their relation to one another and he needed to see how Emma reacted to it. Her eyes looked into his from across the room, and to his relief, her mouth didn't turn down with distaste. No, instead, he only noted the curiosity on her face and the curiosity was just as damning.

"Well," Emma began as she looked from Regina to Jefferson, "I'm surprised at how _closely _the two of you seem to be acquainted."

Jefferson quickly moved away from the mayor, perceiving that their close proximity bothered Emma. He didn't want to upset her anymore than he had to, and in spite his hatred for Regina—she was right. Jefferson didn't want Emma to witness what he planned to do. Somehow he'd have to go about it in a more civilized manner.

"We're old business partners, isn't that right, Jefferson?" Regina coaxed him and something in her tone hinted at mischief.

Jefferson shot her a warning look and Emma eyed the two of them suspiciously. A smile crossed Regina's as she noticed it.

"Clearly he hasn't told you about our_ latest_ partnership."

Jefferson's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Suddenly, his plan to remain civil in Emma's presence was waning. He made a move towards Regina, but Emma's voice stopped him.

"No," she quickly replied, "He hasn't. Frankly, he hasn't told me much of anything. He's too damn secretive."

This pleased Regina and her smile spread with wicked intent.

"Secretive?" she questioned as she glanced towards the fuming Jefferson, "That isn't like you. You've always been so adamant about the truth," Regina shot a glance towards Emma, "Unless, of course, you've wronged someone and want to prevent them from hating you."

"Shut up." Jefferson spoke under his breath so low it sounded like a growl.

Regina boldly stared at Jefferson in spite of his angrily heaving chest and his flaring nostrils.

"I suppose you wouldn't want to tell Ms. Swan how you helped me attain the apple that was meant to poison her..."

Emma's lips parted and she took a step back—completely thrown-off by what she had heard. Her eyes bore into the back of Jefferson's head, willing him to turn and look at her but he didn't. His fists clenched tight as his sides and his hostile stance, paired with the fact that he didn't deny it—showed his guilt. Emma swallowed and suddenly felt light headed. She didn't know if it was from lack of sleep or her shock at the news that Jefferson had had a hand in Henry's hospitalization.

"Our business is over," Jefferson said as he grabbed Regina by the arm, "I'm through with you."

He tugged her over towards an entrance to another world and he felt a sense of d_éjà vu. The looking glass stood before them and Regina glanced-up at Jefferson with a bored look on her face._

_"You're going to hand me over to the Queen of Hearts? Is that it? Is that the best you can do?"_

_Jefferson's hand latched around the back of her neck—not tight enough to leave a mark but not so gently either._

_"The best I can do," he paused to pull her closer, pressing his face to her dark hair and whispering into her ear, "Is to show you the same courtesy you showed me."_

_He pressed a rough kiss to her temple before the hand at the back of her neck shoved her through the looking glass. The force of his shove sent Regina to the ground on the other side, sprawled-out on the pathway between giant mushrooms and blades of grass. Jefferson wasted no time ensuring that she stayed there. He_ shut his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the amulet, willing Cora's arms to raise towards the looking glass. A cloud of green smoke encircled it, dissolving the entryway to Wonderland into a spiraling stream of smoke that funneled towards the floor like a tornado funnels to the ground. The looking glass disappeared from its usual spot, and in its place, a wooden hand-mirror appeared on the floor as the green smoke evaporated. Jefferson strolled over to where the mirror lay.

As he gazed down at it, he could see Regina's face, flattened—as if it was pressed against glass. The sound of her voice was muted and hallowed as it echoed from deep beneath the mirrors surface. She was trying to get back through the looking glass, but now, it was just a simple mirror. A satisfied smirk formed on Jefferson's face.

"Goodbye, Regina," he said as he raised his leg over the mirror.

Regina's protests could be heard echoing through the glass just before Jefferson stomped the heel of his shoe into the mirror. The shattering sound was pleasing to his ears, and under the unique circumstances, he decided that breaking the mirror had most likely granted him 7 years _good_ luck. Jefferson approached Cora and his eyes avoided looking towards Emma. Emma was in some state of shock, overwhelmed by fatigue and anger and betrayal and the surprise of seeing Regina disappear through a mirror. All Emma could do was watch as Jefferson stopped in front of the older woman who was wearing the hospital scrubs.

"I imagine," Cora spoke as she looked into the determined eyes of the young man she had wronged, "That your going to show me the same courtesy I showed your wife."

Jefferson smirked as he looked upon her aged face—still, beneath the wrinkles he could see the beautiful woman who had gifted him with magic as a child. The same magic that had done him more damage than it had ever done him any good.

"Courtesy?" he scoffed-out the word as his smirk quickly turned into a scowl, "It was MURDER," he said as he leaned towards her face, searching her eyes with his hate-filled ones, "Cold. Blooded. Murder."

_Murder._ Emma's back straightened at the word and she thought to grab for her gun. _Was Jefferson capable of murder?_ Emma didn't know. Emma had never known what he was capable of, but she refused to let it happen in front of her.

"Why kill me?" Cora asked, "When, together with my amulet, we could get your wife back!"

Jefferson gulped at her words, temporarily side-tracked him from his goal. For a moment, he allowed himself to envision a reunion with Alice, but it wasn't nearly as sweet as the dream would have been, once upon a time. Another blonde woman who was caught-up in a world that was strange to her—much like Alice—had begun to invade his dreams. _Emma in Storybrooke._ Jefferson gave a sigh, and then a slow shake of his head as his eyes focused on Cora.

"Every action has a consequence," he said as he stepped aside, moving out from in front of her, "Sooner or later we all have to face-up to that."

Jefferson knew all too well that he'd have to face-up to the consequences of his actions. In the back of his mind he knew that what he helped do to Emma and Henry was unforgivable. Jefferson shut his eyes for a brief moment and then he held his arm towards a certain door that was across the room.

"Mind opening the door?" he asked Cora although it was a command.

Emma's eyes darted across the room as a heavy-looking door made of steel flew open. It seemed to suck some of the air from the room as it opened up to a great black nothingness. Emma put two-and-two together and realized that Jefferson had lost his wife to this particular door at Cora's hands. _Two wrongs didn't make a right._ Emma's mouth opened to protest, but it was too late! Cora's body flew across the room and she let-out a shriek as her eyes fixed on the fast approaching blackness.

"Don't forget to close the door on your way out," Jefferson said with dark amusement before Cora passed over the threshold and fell into oblivion.

The steel door slammed shut then, and Emma found herself staring at it, wide eyed and heart pounding in fear. She couldn't believe what all she had just witnessed. She half thought it was a dream because she didn't _want_ to believe that Jefferson had just dumped two woman—albeit, two woman who probably deserved it—into different worlds. Jefferson took notice of Emma's wide-eyed expression and they way her shoulders rose and fell with panted breaths. He moved towards her feeling concerned and wishing so badly that she hadn't seen what he had to do. Jefferson blew-out a frustrated breath of air.

"I told you you shouldn't have followed me," he said, "I didn't want you to see any of this."

His words—his voice speaking directly to her brought her back to reality. The shock of everything she had just witnessed quickly subsided and Emma turned her gaze on Jefferson. Her fists clenched at her sides and she glared at him with an overwhelming amount of hatred.

"You," she spoke as she swallowed down an angry sob, "You helped Regina. She wanted to poison me and you helped her do it!"

Emma took a step towards him—her fiery gaze searing into his—and Jefferson did not move. He knew what was coming. He could feel it. He could feel the anger welling up inside of her and he knew he deserved it.

"Henry," she said the boys name as she marched towards him with determination, "Henry nearly DIED!"

Emma pulled back her fist and Jefferson managed to close his eyes before she launched it at his face. He stumbled backwards at the force of the blow and raised a hand to the corner of his mouth where it stung with pain. A smudge of blood was on his finger as he pulled his hand away.

"I deserved that," he said as his remorseful eyes rose to meet Emma's, "I deserve more than that. I deserve worse."

Emma's chest was heaving with angry breaths as he spoke.

"You've been living under the same roof with us for days!" she yelled as her hands shoved at his chest, pushing him back, "And you were never going to confess—were you? Were YOU? You bastard!"

Emma swung at his face again, hitting him square in the jaw. Jefferson staggered back a step as he tried to shake-off the blow. Emma glared-up at him with wet eyes—eyes that were tired and filled with hate.

"I'm sorry," he said as his eyes stared into her narrowing ones, "But Emma, if I hadn't helped her you wouldn't have given Henry the kiss that broke the curse."

"UGH!" Emma groaned as she shoved at his chest again—nearly causing him to tumble over, "Are you saying you planned it?"

"No," he replied, speaking to her in calm, level voice, "But in spite of the fact that you hate me for it—and believe me I'm not proud—it worked-out for the best. I'm truly sorry, Emma," he apologized again and she noted the wholehearted truth in it, "I'm sorry—I screwed up."

Emma's hands gripped fistfuls of his shirt as she glared up at him.

"Why?" she asked as she shook him, "Why did you help her?"

Jefferson swallowed as he gazed down at her face, noting the hatred in her eyes that threatened to spill down her cheeks as tears.

"Grace," he confessed, "Regina promised me Grace."

"YOU MORON!" Emma yelled as her fists pounded against his chest, "You stupid, gullible, moron!"

Jefferson winced at her words and then wrapped his arms around her despite her struggle.

"Get off me!" she spat as shoved at his chest, trying to break free of his hold.

Jefferson didn't budge. Emma pounded her fists against his chest until, finally, she collapsed into him, exhausted. His arms wrapped tighter around her then, pulling her close, and it hurt more than her hits had. Jefferson realized as he embraced the exhausted woman that it would probably be the last time. As Emma's forehead pressed into the crook of his neck and as her hands clung to his shirt—Jefferson knew it was by her shear lack of sleep that allowed him to hold her. His hand soothingly smoothed over her hair while his other arm wrapped around her back, holding her close.

"I'm so sorry, Emma," he whispered in her ear as he pressed his check against her forehead, "I never wanted to hurt you. Grace and I will be leaving as soon as we get back to the apartment."

Before Emma could even think-up a response, Jefferson bent at the knees, slipping an arm behind her legs and lifting her off the floor. Too tired to protest, Emma wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her. She breathed-in the scent of his skin and, somehow, it comforted her when it shouldn't have. She didn't know what hurt worse—the fact that he had plotted with Regina against her or the fact that she didn't hate him for it. It was insane. _Insanity must be contagious. _Emma thought.

Jefferson carried her through a door then and they found themselves back inside of the hospital. He stopped to gaze down at the woman in his arms, ignoring everything else except for her. She gazed back up at him, searching his blue eyes for answers as if the ones he had given her weren't enough. _It __was for Grace—It was all for Grace._

"Would you like to walk from here?" he asked, "Or should I continue carrying you?"

"Oh," Emma breathed and then unwrapped her arms from around his neck, "Of course I'll walk. I didn't give you permission to carry me in the first place!"

Jefferson smirked as he sat her down on her feet, and then, he froze. Emma noticed.

"What is it?" she asked as she looked him over.

Jefferson pointed a finger towards the sliding hospital doors and Emma followed his gaze. On the other side of the glass it was daylight outside—_probably close to noon_, Emma wagered. She didn't bother to marvel about how time inside the hat passed differently than it did _here_. Her eyes caught sight of what held Jefferson's attention. A middle-aged man, wearing his usual suit and tie, bent down to pick the top hat up from the middle of the street.

"Mr. Gold." Emma muttered.

"Rumpelstiltskin." Jefferson corrected.


	14. A Shroud of Anger

Chapter 14: A Shroud of Anger

Jefferson's eyes were focused on his hat as he walked through the hospital doors and into the street. Rumpelstiltskin held it carefully between his hands, gazing down at it as if it were the solution to some mystery. The answer to some question that had alluded him until he found the familiar hat lying in the street.

"You had to get your hat back," Rumpelstiltskin surmised as his eyes rose to met Jefferson's, "You needed your hat back so you could get rid of Regina."

A dark smile spread across his face that filled Jefferson with dread. He raised a hand in defense, hoping to shield himself from any magical wrath Rumpelstiltskin might unleash.

"I didn't kill her," he was quick to say, "Although, I can't promise she still has her head..."

Rumpelstiltskin waved him off, uninterested.

"Spare me your prattle," he said, shoving the hat into Jefferson's hands as he moved past him, "I'm not here for you, dearie. My business is with Ms. Swan."

Jefferson's eyes narrowed as he watched the other man walk towards the hospital where Emma was still inside. He had nearly forgotten about her agreement to find Rumpelstiltskin's son and it was an agreement he didn't want her to face alone. Jefferson strode after him just as Emma exited through the sliding glass doors.

"What?" she spat as Rumpelstiltskin stopped in her path, "I've had enough hocus pocus for one day! All I want to do is go home and sleep and pretend that today never happened!"

Rumpelstiltskin sighed his irritation.

"We made a deal, Emma," he reminded her, "You owe me a favor. I asked you to find my son. _Baelfire._"

Emma frowned and crossed her arms over her chest

"I remember," she said, "But, what do you need _me_ for? Why don't you just use your magic and find him yourself?"

Rumpelstiltskin's gaze flickered as an angry fire blazed inside his chest, causing his eyes to turn monstrously gold. He had spent his unnaturally long life trying to bury the coward he had once been. He wouldn't admit that he was half afraid to find his son—afraid of "what" he would find. Despit his show of anger, Jefferson wasn't fooled—he knew enough of anger to know it was often a shroud for fear.

"You owe me a favor, Ms. Swan. THIS is what I ask!" Rumpelstiltskin's anger subsided then, turning his eyes back to normal, "You have a way with people. Telling my boy that I've been looking for him will be better coming from you than if I were to show-up at his door."

Emma's eyes wandered to the ground as she considered his words and Jefferson took a step forward, wanting to warn her. If this man was _afraid_ of finding his own son—why shouldn't she be?

"...Emma," Jefferson's voice was filled with caution as he spoke her name.

Emma ignored him and looked straight into Rumpelstiltskin's eyes.

"I'm on it," she said before taking a deep breath, "First thing in the morning."

Rumpelstiltskin gave a reluctant nod at her condition, and then Emma walked away, heading towards home.

"Wait!" Jefferson called-out to her, but Emma kept walking.

He jogged after her and reached-out a hand to grab her arm, pulling her to a stop. At the mere feel of her arm in his hand, Jefferson wanted to wrap his arms around her and protect her from anything else that might hurt her. Emma shot him a dark look from over her shoulder, and Jefferson was all too well aware that he had hurt her enough.

"I know," he began, "It's out of the question that you'll let me go with you. But please," he begged as he stared pleadingly into her eyes, "Don't go alone. Take someone else—Your father, your wooden friend, someone!"

Emma jerked her arm out of his grasp as she gazed up into his eyes. The remorse she saw on his face tugged at her heart, but not enough to forgive him so soon.

"I'll be fine," she snapped at him before turning away.

Jefferson stood immobile as he watched her go, feeling the brunt of his bad decisions. Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head to the side as he examined the Hatter. His stance sagged as if in defeat and he stared straight ahead, watching as Emma Swan walked away. Jefferson was the very image of a man who had been jilted. An amused smile twisted-up Rumpelstiltskin's mouth.

"You care for her," he mused.

Jefferson turned around and shot the other man a dark look.

"Of _course_ I care for her."

At the tone of insolence in his voice, Rumpelstiltskin's amusement quickly faded and he took an imposing step towards Jefferson—his eyes flickering to an inhuman yellow color before turning brown again.

"Then you should have thought twice about trapping Regina in another world!" Rumpelstiltskin hissed, "Without his custodial mother—what do you think will become of Henry?"

Jefferson took a step back, surprised that he knew Regina was "trapped" in another world. Then again, he was _Rumpelstiltskin_, after all. Jefferson looked away from him and glared at the ground—his jaw clenching. He hadn't considered how trapping Regina would affect Henry.

"This world doesn't work like ours," Rumpelstiltskin reminded him, "You can't pick-up a child from off the road and call him yours. There are laws, dearie. You should know better than most. Your own daughter doesn't belong to you in _this_ world."

Jefferson looked up and his eyes seared into Rumpelstiltskin's with silent threats. If looks could kill he would have easily murdered him. Rumpelstiltskin wasn't phased.

"A long, grueling court battle awaits Emma, and Henry could find himself placed in foster care before it's all over."

Jefferson glanced-off into the distance and shook his head. He knew that there would be a court date in his future as well—Unless...

"Magic," Jefferson said and his eyes grew bright with hope, "You have magic! You could cut-out the middle man and make it so that Emma has custody of Henry!"

A corner of Rumpelstiltskin's mouth twisted-up into a smirk.

"Shall we make a deal then?"

Jefferson swallowed as he held Rumpelstiltskin's gaze, remembering how his last dealings with this man had threatened his daughter. Jefferson's eyes narrowed. He was done dealing with people who tried to use his weakness against him—his Grace. He wasn't going to risk making any deals now.

"No," he replied as he gripped the brim of his hat, tightly, in his hand, "I'll find some other way to help Emma."

.

* * *

.

A cacophony of voices was coming from the small apartment as Emma neared the door. Her brow furrowed as she recognized that some of the voices weren't the voices of her housemate's. She opened the door.

"Emma!" Snow White cried-out as she rushed towards her, "We were just about to send out a search party."

Emma's face fell as she looked around the small space at the familiar faces—Ruby and Granny, Leroy, Archie, Marco and a wooden August. Emma gave Mary Margaret a look. _A search party? Really?_

"I'm fine, everything's fine," Emma said as she stood on her toes, looking over the heads of people, "Where's Henry?"

"He's in your room with Grace," Snow White spoke in a lowered voice, "I didn't want her to hear the bad things I had to say about her father."

Emma pursed her lips at the mention of Jefferson and though she, herself, had plenty of bad things to say about the man—she decided to keep his most recent offense to herself.

"Good," Emma replied, happy to know that the kids were out of ear-shot, "Because I'm not sure how to tell Henry that the woman he's called "mom" for the last 10 years won't be around anymore..."

Several people in the room gasped.

"She's dead?" Prince James asked as he took a step towards Snow and his daughter.

Emma blew out a breath of air and then shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't think so, but," Emma paused to give Mary Margaret a meaningful look, "She's not in _this_ world anymore."

.

* * *

.

The sound of a commotion echoed from Emma and Snow White's apartment. Jefferson sighed in frustration and his jaw clenched as he approached. He had half expected to find his daughter sitting out in front of the building—no longer welcome. What he found, instead, was much worse. _Company. _

The chatter of voices went silent as Jefferson opened the door, not bothering to knock. He was met with a mixture of curious and unfriendly faces as he walked into the apartment. They all seemed to know just who he was and what he had done to Regina. Jefferson's eyes sought out Emma'sand hers were exhausted—tired of magic, tired of _him_, tired of everything. She turned her head away.

"I'm only here for Grace, and then I'll be leaving," he told her before making his way through the crowd, planning to find his daughter.

A hard hand collided with his chest then, stopping him from taking another step. Jefferson's eyes narrowed as he looked into the wooden face of a man.

"You owe us an explanation," August said.

Jefferson glanced around the room at all the inquisitive faces. Their eyes kept darting from him to the hat he held in his hand. Jefferson sighed.

"An explanation about what? Regina?" he questioned as he glanced around the room, "She took a long fall down the rabbit hole. I think we can all agree she had it coming."

Jefferson pushed August's hand aside and took another step forward. A softer hand grabbed his arm and he stopped once again, his jaw clenching in irritation. The waitress with the long brown hair had stopped him this time.

"Is there any chance she could find her way back into this world?" Ruby asked.

"No," Jefferson replied before glancing around the room, "And if any of you were hoping to land a few good punches—sorry—I can't take you to her. I destroyed the door to that world."

"But, how can you be sure she won't return?" Archie questioned, "It was a spell that brought her here before...she could cast another one."

Jefferson's mouth pressed into a hard angry line, his patience with these people were waning.

"No she CAN'T!" Jefferson shouted, "I had her stripped of her powers. She won't be coming back—ever. Trust me on that."

"Trust _you_?" the words echoed-out as if they were coming from inside a hollow wooden barrel.

Jefferson turned to August as he continued to speak.

"After what you did to Emma and Snow why would anyone ever trust you?"

Jefferson's eyes met Emma's and he held her gaze for a moment before he turned his attention back to August.

"Well, I may not have a nose that gives me away when I'm lying," Jefferson baited the wooden man, "But I have nothing to gain from telling lies—not anymore, not ever."

He turned on his heel then and strode towards Emma's bedroom door. The sound of a television was blaring from behind the closed door as if to drown-out the grown-ups conversation. No one objected or said anything as he entered the room.

"Papa, where have you been?" Grace asked she got up off the floor and flung herself into her fathers arms nearly causing Jefferson to drop his hat.

"I'll tell you later," he promised as he closed his eyes while hugging her tight, "Once we're home."

When Jefferson's eyes opened again he found Henry staring at him.

"Your leaving?" the boy asked as he looked between the two of them.

Jefferson noticed the boys somber expression as he looked at Grace. Jefferson gave a sigh.

"Yes," he replied, "I've worn-out my welcome, but you can come visit Grace anytime, if Emma will let you," Jefferson paused as he took hold of his daughters hand while he held the hat in the other, "Thank you for being Grace's friend, Henry. And I'm sorry, in advance."

Jefferson turned to leave the room before Henry could ask: "What for?" He pulled Grace along behind him and then nearly walked into Emma who had been eavesdropping just outside the room. Jefferson imagined that she had followed him for the sake of protecting Henry, but as she looked up at him with searching eyes and parted lips—he knew that all was not lost.

"Grace—say goodbye to Emma," he told his daughter without looking away from the woman standing before him.

He kept his eyes on her even as she looked away to say goodbye to the little girl. Emma smiled at Grace with a sweet, genuine smile that Jefferson found to be breathtaking. He swallowed at the sight of it, and suddenly, he regretted everything he had ever done to make her frown—when he could have made her smile, instead. Emma didn't have so much as a smirk for him as she met his gaze. Jefferson nodded his head in understanding.

"Goodbye, Emma," he said and he hated how _final_ it sounded as the words left his mouth.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer until Emma very guardedly told him: "Bye." Jefferson walked passed her then, and it almost hurt. There was more he wanted to say—more apologizing, more pleading—whatever it'd take for her to forgive him. As he walked back towards the crowd that was gathered inside the small apartment, he resented them. He imagined how Emma's "goodbye" would have gone if it wasn't for the crowd. In his wildest imaginings, he would have had the chance to touch her again. So, he couldn't help but glare at the others as he passed, but they looked at him differently. They looked at him differently because Grace was by his side.

"Thank you for looking after Grace," Jefferson said to Snow White and Prince James as he stopped before the door.

Snow bit her tongue to keep herself from saying anything and James nodded in response. With his daughter's hand in his, he exited the apartment, fighting off the urge to glance over his shoulder in hopes of seeing Emma. Jefferson and Grace walked hand-in-hand towards home, then—the home Grace didn't yet know. It was reminder of Rumpelstiltskin's words: _Your own daughter doesn't belong to you in _this_ world. _Jefferson's fists clenched at the thought.

"Ow!"

Jefferson quickly let go of his daughter's hand, realizing that he had squeezed it too hard. He stopped walking and turned to face her.

"I'm sorry, Grace," he quickly apologized as he placed his hat on his head so he could hoist the girl up in his arms, "I forgot I was still holding your hand."

Grace smiled and shook her head at her father.

"You have a grip like August," she said as Jefferson continued walking.

"August?" his eyes narrowed at the name, wondering why the puppet had touched his daughter.

"I mean Pinocchio," Grace corrected herself, "He forgets his own strength whenever he gives handshakes," Grace paused for a moment, her expression turning contemplative, "Papa—do you think he'll ever be a real man again? The blue fairy said she can't help him without her wand."

Jefferson's own expression turned contemplative at her words. He had never encountered the blue fairy back in their world, but he knew how she granted wishes. Jefferson put Grace back on her feet so they could walk side-by-side.

"I don't know, baby," he replied as he glanced down at her, "But there's always a way to make things right..."

.

* * *

.

Emma watched through the window as Jefferson and Grace got further and further away until she couldn't see them anymore. She thought she would be relieved that he was gone, but she wasn't. She almost wished he had stayed so _he_ could be the one to tell Henry what happened to Regina—it was all Jefferson's doing, anyway. Emma sighed as she turned away from the window to see the crowd of people who were still loitering inside the apartment. Henry was talking with Archie and at the sight of the doctor Emma considered asking his advice. How do you tell a kid that he'll never see his mother again? His _other _mother?

Emma crossed her arms over chest, put on a brave face, and decided to bite the bullet. She walked half-way to her bedroom then, and stopped.

"Hey, kid," she called to him and Henry looked her way, "Come on," she said as she took another step forward, "I need to talk to you for a minute."

Emma looked across the room, catching sight of her parents as Henry happily walked to the bedroom. Snow White gave Emma a reassuring smile, but it only helped so much. She followed Henry into the room and shut the door behind her.

"Is this about Grace and Jefferson?" Henry asked as he hopped onto her bed, "About why they're not staying here anymore?"

"Henry—Jefferson has his own house," Emma said as she sat down beside him, "They weren't going to stay here _forever_."

"I know," he replied as he looked up at her with his bright brown eyes, "It was just until they were safe from the Queen."

"Your _mother_," Emma corrected him in a stern tone, but she cringed inside from having to say it.

Henry wore a confused expression on his face as he gazed up at her. Emma sighed her frustration.

"Look," she began as she turned to face him, sliding a leg underneath herself, "I know Regina did a lot of bad things and she lied about who she really was. But, I also know that she was your mom for 10 years. TEN years, Henry! That's a pretty long time to be a part of someone's family—that's _your_ whole life!" Emma ignored the faces Henry was making as she stopped to take a breath, "What I'm trying to say is that—its okay to care about the "bad guy". Yeah, she's the Evil Queen, but she's also your mom. And you turned out pretty great, so, she can't be _all_ bad."

Henry's expression turned suspicious.

"Why are we talking about this?"

Emma sighed and her eyes focused on something that wasn't Henry.

"Because," she explained, "Because if something ever happens to her I want you to know that its okay to feel sad. It's okay to miss her."

Emma turned her gaze back to the boy and she watched him swallow at her words.

"What happened today?" he asked as he searched her eyes for answers, "You're being weird."

Emma took a deep breath as she stared at her son. Henry had always been straight forward with her, telling her the truth even when she didn't believe it. She realized she owed him that same sort of directness.

"Something happened to Regina," Emma admitted him and then paused as she tested Henry for a reaction.

He gave none as he stared forward, his eyes focusing on something that wasn't Emma.

"She's won't be coming back, Henry. Jefferson trapped her in Wonderland—with no magic, with no way of getting back here."

At that, Henry looked up at her and his mouth was set in an angry pout as if he suddenly harbored a hatred for Jefferson.

"Good!" he said and Emma's eyes blinked in surprise, "That's what she did to him, Emma! She left him in Wonderland. She took him away from Grace! I'm glad he did it."

"Henry!" Emma scolded as she reached-out to grab him, to shake some sense into him, or something.

Henry pulled away and ran out of the room, leaving Emma to gape after him. She stood to her feet as if she would follow him, but she didn't. She knew that deep down Henry _had_ to feel something for Regina—he had to! Henry only showed his anger towards his other mom, but Emma knew enough of anger to know it was often a shroud for sadness. She collapsed on to her bed and suddenly had this over-whelming urge to cry. Henry losing Regina because of Jefferson. Emma almost losing Henry because of Regina **and** Jefferson. _That_ betrayal hurt more than anything. And she realized that her own advice wasn't so easy to follow. She had told Henry that it was "okay to care about the bad guy". Well, maybe Emma understood more than most why Henry was so angry... It's not easy to admit that you care about the "bad guy". And in-spite of herself—Emma cared about Jefferson.

.

* * *

.

**A/N: I'm still warring with myself over how I want this story to end, so updates are gonna be slower. But! This story has a good 4 to 5 chapters left to go. THANK YOU to everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed. Y'all are awesome! I will update again as soon as I can. **

**:)**


	15. All for the Children

Chapter 15: All for the Children

Grace woke up, with a rumbling tummy, to the delicious smells of food. With her father's large house still being unfamiliar to her, she followed her "bloodhound" nose into the dinning room. The table that stood before her was covered with more food than she had ever seen in her life—not even at holidays! A large bowl of fruit was the centerpiece and it was surrounded by all manner of breakfast food. Muffins and pancakes and oatmeal. Eggs and sausage links and toast with jam. Jefferson walked into the room, then, carrying a tea tray.

"Papa!" Grace exclaimed with wide eyes as she ran to him.

She collided into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and the impact nearly caused him to drop the tray.

"Well good morning!" he laughed as he held the tea tray above his head.

Grace, with her arms still wrapped around him and her cheek pressed to his waistcoat, looked up at him with a smile.

"Is this all for us?"

Jefferson nodded as he gazed down at his daughter and she slowly pulled away from him, turning around to stare at all the food in wonder.

"I didn't know what you liked," Jefferson confessed as he sat the tea tray down on the table, "So, I made everything I could think of."

Grace gave her father a sympathetic smile, remembering the meager loaf of bread and pot of tea that had once served them both as breakfast.

"Papa, you didn't have to do all of this."

Jefferson smiled and then crossed the short distance between them until he could kneel before her.

"But I wanted to," he said as he pressed a hand to her cheek, "We've missed a lot of meals together. _This_, in no way makes up for that, but—"

"It's perfect." Grace interrupted him before wrapping him up in another embrace.

Jefferson hugged his daughter back, and somehow, it all still seemed a little surreal. Finally, after nearly 30 years of waiting and wishing, Jefferson had gotten what he wanted most—to be Grace's father again. Grace's arms tightened around his neck as if she knew he needed it. Jefferson gave a laugh.

"Come on," he said as he gently pushed her away, "We don't want all this food to get cold, do we?"

Grace enthusiastically shook her head, and together, they sat down at the table. Looking at all the food that was laid-out before her, Grace was a little overwhelmed by the choices. She grinned at her father as she noticed he was watching her.

"Usually I just have cereal for breakfast." she admitted as she reached for a muffin.

Jefferson returned her smile as he made a mental note to take Grace shopping for "cereal".

.

* * *

.

Emma decided to sneak out of the apartment before anyone else woke up—before Henry begged again, or before her parents insisted that one of them, at least, went along. She crept passed the couch where Henry was invisible underneath the covers that were pulled over his head, and then she quietly walked out the front door. Emma felt guilty as she went. She was torn between the favor she owed Mr. Gold—her agreement to find "Rumpelstiltskin's" son—and her _need_ to be there for Henry. Never-the-less, Emma wasn't going to chance breaking a deal with Rumpelstiltskin.

_Baelfire._ She thought the name as she reached her car, and then, for the first time, she allowed herself to wonder. _Where are you?_

Emma's strong sense of direction led her straight out of Storybrooke, taking a series of lefts and rights until she found herself on a major highway. The sun had nearly reached its highest point in the sky, and still, she found herself driving, heading south west—towards New York, it seemed. Emma flexed her fingers around the steering-wheel and tried to shrug the kink out of her shoulders. Suddenly, there was a sigh of exasperation and a shuffling sound from the back of her car. Emma bolted up-right in her seat and glanced behind her to see a brown head of hair pop-up from beneath a blanket.

"Okay—I'm sick of being back here." the stowaway complained.

"HENRY!" Emma gasped, causing her to swerve on the road.

Another car honked at her and Henry guiltily winced-up his face.

"Sorry," he apologized as he crawled into the front seat, pulling his backpack along with him.

"Henry, you shouldn't be here!" Emma protested while she tried her best to keep her eyes on the road.

She was tempted to turn the car around and take him home, but she had already driven so many long miles! Henry looked-up at her with a tight-lipped expression.

"Operation Cobra was _my_ idea," he explained as he looked at her through narrowed eyes, "You've been going off on your own missions and leaving me behind. We're supposed to be in this together."

Emma stared at her son for a moment longer than she should have, considering that she was driving down the highway. Technically, those "missions" weren't hers—they were Jefferson's—but still, she was aware that the latest mission had resulted in Regina's permanent exile. Emma stared hard at the road as she wondered if _that _was what _this_ was all about.

"I'm sorry, Henry," she said before exhaling a breath, "I know things would have happened differently if you were there, but—"

"No," Henry interrupted, "I'm not talking about _that_. I just don't want to be left behind. Where you go—I go. Okay?"

His words tugged at her heart strings and Emma gave him a smile that was both happy and sad.

"Okay." she agreed with a nod as she looked into his eyes, letting him know that it was a promise.

Henry smiled in response—it was a smile that stretched across his face and made his eyes twinkle happily. Emma's own smile widened at the sight of it but turned serious as she thought to make a request of her own

"Okay," she said again, "But if you ever want to talk about—you know what—I'm ready to listen."

Henry looked down at the backpack that was sitting between his knees and he quickly unzipped it, pulling out his book. Emma's eyes darted from him to the road and then back again.

"There's not much to say," he replied as he opened his book to an illustration of the Queen, "I knew that—once you broke the curse—somethingwould happen to her. I'm just mad," he admitted as he gazed up at Emma, "I'm mad at her for everything she did."

Emma just nodded her head, deciding not to press him anymore, but to let him work out his own feelings. She had a small taste of what it was like to deal with complex feelings—both hating and caring about someone—but it surely wasn't as complicated as his feelings.

"So," Henry began as he slapped his book shut, "Where are we going?"

Emma gave a long sigh. _THAT was definitely the question._

"Looks like were headed to New York," she replied as she pointed up to the green road sign that read, Springfield and Albany.

The sound of rustling caught Emma's attention and she glanced over at Henry to see him pull something from his backpack.

"Here," he said as he handed her two granola bars, "I'm hungry. You must be too."

Emma took the offering gladly and smiled as she stared at the boy—_her_ boy. She was suddenly very thankful that he had stowed away inside of her car. Emma hadn't given a single thought to bringing food. Henry pulled-out two bottles of water from his backpack then. And somehow, if it was at all possible, Emma loved him even more.

.

* * *

.

Jefferson's hat was cradled in the crook of his arm while Grace stood at his side. He let go of her hand for a moment so he could knock on the door of the convent, but the door opened before his fist made contact with the wood. The mother superior smiled at the two of them.

"Hello, Grace. Hello...Jefferson."

Never having met the woman before, Jefferson looked at her suspiciously. The woman who was said to be the "blue fairy", nodded in acceptance of his suspicion, and then smiled sympathetically at the man who she knew had lost his wife in such a cruel manner.

"Not all wishes can be granted," she said with a tone of remorse in her voice, "But it doesn't mean they go unheard...or forgotten."

Jefferson swallowed as her words triggered the memory of wishes he had made long ago, but they mattered very little now. Jefferson gave the woman a bored look.

"As I understand it," he began, "_No_ wishes can be granted."

"Not without your wand!" Grace was quick to add.

The blue fairy folded her hands and gave a sigh as she looked between the two of them.

"Unfortunately, that is true."

Jefferson rolled his eyes at her hopeless demeanor. After all, an obvious solution was standing right before her...

"Well," he said, "Fortunately for everyone, I can get your wand for you."

Jefferson slipped passed the woman then, and inside the house, glancing around at the wide open space of the entry hall. He quickly decided that it was a good place to spin his hat—plenty of room for Grace to watch him preform his trick without her getting too close.

"I suppose, in return, you would like me to grant you a wish?"

Jefferson smirked at the woman and then spared a glance at his daughter.

"Wishes," he corrected her, "Two of them."

The blue fairy glanced to floor, fearing that his wishes would, again, be something she could not grant.

"You know, I can't bring someone ba—"

"Nothing like that," Jefferson assured her with a shake of his head, "But maybe you could give a deserving mother the legal rights to have her child," he paused as Grace stared up at him with a hopeful look, "And," he added with an exasperated sigh, "Maybe you could help a wooden boy become real again..."

A cheerful smile formed on the woman's face and she nodded in kind.

"I would be happy to."

.

* * *

.

Several hours and two stops later, the yellow bug pulled-up in front of an apartment building in Buffalo, New York. The neighborhood seemed decent enough, but—being that it was at night and having Henry with her—Emma felt a little leery about getting out of the car.

"Are you sure this is where he lives?" Henry asked as he peered through his window up at the well-lit building.

Emma followed his gaze.

"Yep."

Henry turned to look at her with excitement on his face.

"Cool!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, "It's like you have two superpowers now!"

Emma gave him a small smile, although, she wasn't so sure that her other "so-called" superpower was _super_ at all. Since winding-up in Storybrooke, she had been lied to many times and hadn't even picked-up on it. Emma sighed.

"Come on, kid," she said as she reached for her door handle, "Let's get this over with."

Emma and Henry walked-up to the entrance of the apartments where a call box was waiting. Emma gave another sigh.

"Great," she complained, "Now we'll have to convince him to let us in before we convince him to go Storybrooke!"

"No we won't," Henry disagreed as he looked at the name tags on the call box, "I bet _this_ is him!"

Emma took a step forward to see the name tag Henry was pointing to. It was #6 on the call box.

"Beau Finley," she read aloud, "Well, I guess that is slightly less ridiculous than _Baelfire_."

Henry ignored her as he pressed the button next to the name and the call box began to ring. Emma didn't have the chance to protest before the voice of a man said "hello".

"Mister, could you please let me in?" Henry asked in his most innocent voice, "My grandma's not answering."

"Uhh...sure." the man agreed, and with a buzz, the front door clicked open.

Emma shot Henry a curious look and the boy just smiled as he held the door open for her.

"Where did you learn that little trick?" Emma asked as she walked inside.

Henry shrugged his shoulders as he followed her.

"How do you think I got inside your apartment building in Boston?"

Emma laughed in disbelief and ruffled the boys hair.

"I've gotta hand it to you, kid," she said with a shake of her head, "You're pretty good."

"I know." he replied smugly.

Together, the two of them walked up to the door that had the number "6" mounted on it. They shared a look before they each took a deep breath and Emma knocked on the door that, supposedly, belonged to Rumpelstiltskin's son. Emma had to knock a second time before the sound of foot steps came towards the door.

A man with dark brown hair that was flecked with gray, opened the door with a tired expression on his face. His eyes roamed over Emma and then settled on Henry with lowered eyebrows.

"_Grandma_, huh?"

Henry smiled sheepishly and the man turned his unamused gaze to Emma.

"What's this about?"

Emma gave him a serious look.

"Mr. Finley, I'm here on behalf of your father." Emma cut to the chase.

The man frowned.

"Sorry," he said, "You've got the wrong Beau Finley. I don't have a father."

The man started to close the door, then.

"Baelfire, wait!" Henry called and the door stayed open a crack.

Slowly, the man opened it again and glanced suspiciously between the woman and child.

"How do you know that name?"

Emma swallowed and looked up at him sympathetically.

"You're father—Rumpelstiltskin—asked me to find you."

The middle-aged man, who couldn't be but a few years younger than Mr. Gold, himself, stumbled back a step at the name _Rumpelstiltskin._ He turned completely around and walked back inside his apartment, carelessly leaving the door open. Emma and Henry followed in behind him as they watched him collapse onto a recliner and then stare unblinkingly at a couch. It seemed that the man was in some sort of shock.

"Mr. Finley," Emma tried again, "I—"

"He _asked_ you?"

The man emphasized the word as if "asking" wasn't in Rumpelstiltskin's nature. A confused expression came over Baelfire's face as he remembered the monster his father had become—a monster who certainly didn't _ask_ for things.

"I owed him a favor." Emma elaborated.

_A favor?_ His father sure as hell didn't grant anyone favors. _After all these years had he changed?_

"Where is he?" the man asked as he stood to his feet.

With a sigh of relief, Emma slouched forward—surprised that it had been so easy.

"He's in Storybrooke, Maine," Henry replied, "We have a car and we need you to go with us there!"

Overwhelmed, the man blew-out a breath of air, and then, without another thought, he grabbed his keys and shooed Emma and Henry out of his apartment.

"Does he still have the dagger?" Baelfire asked as he locked his door.

Emma and Henry shared a confused look and the man noticed.

"Nevermind," he said, "I'll explain on the way."


	16. Twenty Eight Years

Chapter 16: Twenty-Eight Years

The hats displayed on the lit shelves became target practice for his discarded wads of paper. Jefferson leaned over his work table—his left hand gripping at his hair, while his right hand scribbled down another poor choice of words. He was much better with a needle than a pen. Jefferson crumpled-up the sheet of paper and then launched it across the room at the shelves. With a frustrated sigh, he fell back into his seat and stared at the empty chair that sat across from him...

"_I can't make it work," Emma shouts at him after rising from her chair, "What you're asking me is impossible!"_

_Jefferson stands to his feet and grabs for the hat she had been working on._

"_No! It has to be," he declares as he turns the hat in his hands, inspecting it for magic, "If it's not, I'm never going home. I'll be cursed to live in this house forever."_

_Emma takes a step towards him until the table between them prevents her from getting any closer._

"_What is so cursed about your life?" she asks, desperate to understand as Jefferson throws the useless hat on the table, "Look at this place. It's beautiful. It doesn't seem cursed to me."_

_Jefferson turns his back on her and walks forward a few steps._

"_It's cursed because—" he turns to face Emma again, "Like everyone else here, what I love has been ripped from me."_

Jefferson's jaw clenched as he looked away from the empty chair and glanced down at the brown envelope containing the legal documents—documents he didn't want to send without some sort of written apology. Henry—what _Emma_ loved—had nearly been ripped away from her. Jefferson had had a hand in it. There were no words that could redeem such an atrocity. There were no words truthful or heartfelt enough. And then, the words he had written—now lying wadded-up on the floor—had been too personal and too desperate, reading like a letter from a pleading lover. Jefferson had crumpled-up those letters in a frenzy, imagining how Emma would scoff at them, or at the very least, be made uncomfortable. He lowered his pen down to the paper once more. His written apology had to be simple and practical—something that Emma wouldn't throw away after reading the first sentence.

Jefferson scribbled down a few more words, scratched through half of those, and then glared at the alarm clock sitting on his work table. It was nearly 2 AM.

.

* * *

.

"So, let me get this straight," Emma said as she took a hand off the wheel to reach for her cup of coffee, "Your father watched you disappear into the ground because he refused to go with you. Because he was more afraid of facing the _unknown_ without his magical-dagger powers than he was afraid of abandoning his son in another world..."

Emma glanced over at the man sitting in her passenger seat, waiting for him to deny her words, but he didn't. Emma shook her head.

"And after all of that—you're still willing to see him?" Emma raised her cup to the man, saluting him, "You're hell-of-a-lot more forgiving than I am."

Baelfire gave a bitter laugh and then glanced-out the passenger side window.

"I'm not saying that I forgive him," he explained, "But he's my father. Somehow, he found a way to get to this world. I'm not going to ignore that. We're family."

_Family._ Emma took a quick look over her shoulder at the boy who had fallen asleep in the back of the car—the boy who was more family than she had ever dreamed of having. Emma turned her eyes back to the road then, and sighed as she drove passed the "Welcome to Storybrooke" sign.

"Well, I hope you're ready," she told Baelfire as she took a quick sip of her coffee, "Because you're about to have a family reunion."

They drove the rest of the way in silence as the little yellow bug headed deeper into town. Emma didn't need to use her "new" superpower to know where she'd find Mr. Gold. She had already uncovered his hideout—or secret lair or whatever it was. The car pulled to a stop in front of the old abandoned warehouse, and at the sight of it, Emma thought of Jefferson. She thought of him leading the way down into the darkness of the warehouse basement. She thought of him getting tossed around by Rumpelstiltskin's magic. She was ashamed to admit it, but part of her wanted him there _now_. It was most likely the part of her that didn't want Henry to go down into that basement.

"_This_ is where he's at?" the man in the passenger seat asked and the suspicion in his voice tore Emma from her thoughts.

She looked through the window up at the dark, dilapidated building and then gave him an apologetic smile.

"Yeah, I know this looks pretty bad," Emma said, "A total stranger taking you to some shady-looking place late at night..."

Baelfire nodded in agreement.

"If it wasn't for the boy I might be worried."

Emma gave a laugh that fell flat as she glanced in the back of the car where Henry was still sleeping. She considered leaving him to sleep inside the car, but the sound of the passenger door closing as Baelfire got out of it—easily woke him. Emma sighed.

"Come on, kid," she said as he stretched his arms over his head with a yawn, "You wanted to go where I go—so let's go!"

Emma got out of the car, and Henry climbed over the seat to follow-out behind her. She pointed a finger at him in warning, then

"Henry—if at any point I tell you to _run_, you RUN. Got it?"

The boy sleepily nodded his head in agreement as Emma walked around the car to stand beside Baelfire. The man looked her over with examining eyes.

"You think he may give you cause to run, huh?" Baelfire noted before sighing in disappointment, "And here I was beginning to think he had changed..."

Emma's lips parted to respond, but suddenly, the building in front of them lit-up like a Christmas tree and the sliding metal doors opened on their own accord, allowing the light from inside to spill onto the dark street. It was the most obvious welcoming gesture Emma had ever seen.

"Cool!" Henry hollered and then skipped towards the opening of the warehouse.

Emma lunged forward and grabbed the back of his shirt, stopping him despite the look he sent her.

"No way!" she said and then pointed her thumb at Baelfire, "_He_ goes first."

The man led the way with Emma's instruction on where to go and she found that the basement wasn't as dark as it was during her previous visit. They quickly made their way through the rocky tunnel and into the large cave-like room where Rumpelstiltskin was waiting. The scenery had changed drastically. The cave room was now furnished like a dining hall inside of a castle. Mr. Gold—dressed in his usual coat and tie—sat at the head of a long table while the young woman, named Belle, sat beside him. Baelfire came to an abrupt stop as soon as he saw his father. Emma, who was holding Henry's hand, stared up at him, noticing the way he gulped and his chest heaved as he stared at the man sitting at the table. Mr. Gold stood up from his chair then and cautiously crossed the distance between him and his son, leaving Belle to her chair.

Rumpelstiltskin had rehearsed the words he would say to his son a thousand times over, but then, they had been wasted on August Booth. How had he ever mistaken _that_ man for his son—when the man standing before him now was so clearly the grown-up version of Bae? Rumpelstiltskin glanced away from his son to pull an object—wrapped in a brown cloth—from inside his coat. Wordlessly, he handed it to Baelfire, and as soon as he took hold of it—feeling its familiar weight—he shot his father a sharp look.

"Why are you giving the dagger to me?"

Rumpelstiltskin placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"So that we can destroy it, Bae," he replied as he looked, imploringly into his eyes, "We can destroy it together."

His hand fell from Baelfire's shoulder then, and he spared a glance at Emma and Henry.

"Thank you, Ms. Swan," he said with a slight bow, "You've honored our deal. You're free to leave."

Emma scowled at his words and let go of Henry's hand so she could cross her arms over her chest. _Free to leave?_ He said it as if he had control over her.

"No," she spoke defiantly, "I think I'll stick around and see what you do with this dagger."

Mr. Gold's lips pressed together in a hard line as he stared at her and Emma stared right back, challenging him. Mr. Gold gave a sigh.

"Suit yourself, dearie. Though, I imagine you want to be getting your boy home. It's quite late."

Emma's eyes narrowed as he mentioned Henry. She didn't need the advice of a man who had abandoned his _own_ boy. She opened her mouth to tell him off.

"I'm okay!" Henry exclaimed before Emma could say anything. "I've stayed-up this late before. Plus—I've been in some pretty dangerous situations. Remember?" he asked as he sent Emma a pointed look, "The mine shaft? The apple turnover?"

Emma gulped at the mention of the latter, and Rumpelstiltskin—who watched her recoil at the word "apple"—turned to address the boy.

"Indeed you have, Henry," he said, "And everyone in town is in your debt for the risks you and Ms. Swan took to break the curse."

He smiled down at the boy and then turned to walk away, gesturing for Baelfire to follow him.

"Wait!" Henry called, "If the curse is broken—why is everyone still here?"

Rumpelstiltskin turned back around and looked at the inquisitive boy—the boy who had often reminded him of his son.

"Well Henry, I expect that has something to do with you."

"Me?" he asked as his brow furrowed in confusion.

Emma took a protective step in front of Henry and she glared threateningly at Rumpelstiltskin.

"What do you mean?"

Her voice was just as threatening as her glare and Rumpelstiltskin smiled in spite of it.

"I expect it has something to do with Henry's father," he confessed and Emma nervously shot a glance at Henry, "He—whoever he may be—was from _this_ world, am I right?"

Emma shrugged.

"Yeah—I guess. But what does _he_ have to do with anything?"

"Everything," he replied, "It means that Henry belongs to **both** worlds, and yet, he's apart of us—each of us. He connects us to this place. That's why we're still here, dearie."

Emma and Henry stared at one another while Rumpelstiltskin turned his attention back to his long lost son.

Baelfire was still overwhelmed at the sight of him. His father looked exactly the same—just as he had before he had _changed_. Baelfire was even more surprised by his display of kindness. Apparently, this world had done Rumpelstiltskin some good.

"Are you ready?" he asked as he pointed a finger at the shrouded dagger Baelfire was holding.

The man had never expected to see his father again, much less to have him give-up the thing he had valued most—power. Baelfire managed only a nod in response and Rumpelstiltskin led them all deeper into the cave. Emma and Henry followed behind Belle who followed behind the father and son. There was no décor where they were headed. The space was carved out of rock from floor to ceiling and there were crude torches on the walls that lit the way. Emma stopped, pulling Henry to a stop with her as she felt a notable rise in the temperature of the room. The three who were leading the way disappeared around a rocky corner and Emma took hold of Henry's hand before cautiously following behind them.

Around the corner was a dead end, where a hearth—nearly as old as the rock it was carved from—was blazing with fire. The heat from the flames could be felt from several feet away. Emma and Henry watched from behind the corner as Rumpelstiltskin and Baelfire shared a look and a nod. Then, without unwrapping the cloth from the dagger Baelfire threw it into the flames. The fire rose and smoke wafted-up from the hearth as the cloth quickly burned to ash.

"Get back!" Rumpelstiltskin warned his family as he raised his hands.

His skin took on its golden sheen and his eyes blazed yellow. Baelfire's mouth turned down in disapproval.

"This is what it takes, my boy," he assured his son as a surge of power from his hands made the fire turn blue, "It takes magic to destroy magic!"

Sparks flew from the hearth, causing the Gold family to take a few more steps back from the flames. A roaring sound emitted from the pit, growing louder as the fire burned brighter and brighter. The flames turned white and Rumpelstiltskin crumpled to his knees, throwing his head back with a shout as purple smoke spewed-up from his mouth and evaporated into the rocks overhead. Belle and Baelfire rushed to his side as the smoke continued to spew from his mouth like an erupting geyser. The roaring sound grew louder then, and a burst of light flashed from the hearth, making everything turn white. Emma closed her eyes tight and wrapped her arms around Henry. And then, just as soon as the roaring had reached its loudest volume—everything went silent. Emma opened her eyes to find that the fire in the hearth had burned out, leaving behind not even a single waft of smoke. The Gold family were sprawled-out on the cave floor, kneeling over their fallen loved one.

"Rumpelstiltskin." Belle said his name as she cradled him to her.

The man's chest rose as he took a breath and the tension in the room quickly lifted. Baelfire rose to his feet and paced a few steps as he let-out an emotional breath—momentarily thinking he had lost his father all over again. Rumpelstiltskin opened his eyes and smiled-up at the beauty that was leaning over him. Belle smiled back and then Rumpelstiltskin glanced around for his son.

"Bae?"

Baelfire swallowed at the familiar nickname and then walked to his father.

"Yes?"

Rumpelstiltskin raised his hand up towards him, seeking help. He reached for his son's hand, both, out of necessity and as a test to see if he could be forgiven. Baelfire stared down at his fathers hand, knowing some of the evils that that hand had caused and imagining there were many more he didn't know about.

"Let's make another deal." he offered as he looked hard into his fathers eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin lowered his hand at the word "deal", but he didn't immediately object to his sons offer.

"What would you like?"

Baelfire glanced away as he thought about, causing a crease to form between his eyebrows.

"I've been in this world for 28 years without you," he said before spying Emma and Henry out of the corner of his eye, "The woman and her son think there's a portal here that always opens up to the same year—1983. But that's beside the point."

Baelfire went down on a knee so he could look eye-level at the man—the father—who was nearly his same age.

"I don't know how long it's been for you, but It's been 28 years for me. I want you to make-up for those 28 years by doing something selfless," he explained, "28 selfless deeds for the 28 years you left me alone. So—you help 28 people and I'll help you up. Do we have a deal?"

Emma and Henry shared a glance before looking back at the father and son in anticipation. Baelfire stood to his feet and stuck his hand out for his father's.

"You've always been the bigger man." Rumpelstiltskin said with pride as he stared-up at his son.

Baelfire swallowed at his words but made no response. He merely thrust his hand out towards his father, wanting him to take the deal. With a smile, Rumpelstiltskin took his son's hand in his and they shook on it.

"We have a deal."

.

* * *

.

The hands on the alarm clock had ticked to 3:15 and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Jefferson gasped for a breath and pushed away from the table to stand to his feet. The air was dry and thin as he took it into his lungs. It felt completely..._normal_. Jefferson placed the palms of his hands on the table as he leaned forward in contemplation. His eyebrows lowered as he glared down at the letter he had written—the letter he had addressed to Emma. Enlightenment hit him then, and a corner of his mouth curved up into a smile.

Jefferson stood up straight and walked to the end of the table where his hat box was sitting. With a flick of his hand he tossed back the lid and then pulled the hat from the box. He took a deep breath as he held it in his hands, thinking of the misery and the pleasure the hat had brought him. Jefferson placed the hat on the table then, and with a quick maneuver of his hands, he spun it like a top.

And then...

Nothing happened.

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**A/N: Two chapters to go. Thanks for reading! ;)**


	17. Repairing What was Undone

**A/N: Sorry to have caused any confusion but that last chapter was not meant to be a cliffhanger. The chapter ended with "nothing happened" because, essentially, nothing happened when Jefferson spun his hat. The hat didn't open a portal. Anyway, I hope this chapter clears things up...**

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Chapter 17: Repairing What was Undone

It was the morning after Rumpelstiltskin's dagger had been destroyed and the Storybrooke clock-tower had seemingly ticked its last tock. The theory was that the clock had been stopped and started one too many times by magic. Yet, the townsfolk who had emerged from their homes early enough to notice—didn't really seem to mind. Most of them had made more interesting observations that morning...

Ruby awoke from her bed with a yawn, and then immediately froze. She sniffed at the air and realized that—for first time in several days—she couldn't smell the lilac shrubs that were planted outside her window. She couldn't smell just exactly what the neighbors were eating for breakfast. And, **thankfully**, she couldn't smell the neighborhood dog that was in-heat.

Archie stepped-out on to his porch with a broom in his hand, planning to gently shoo-away the crickets that liked to congregate there. All night long the crickets would sing on his porch, and then, in the morning they would be sun bathing. Archie was surprised to find that—for first time in several days—there wasn't a single cricket on his porch.

For Rumpelstiltskin, the magic he had used on himself to mend his bum leg had vanished along with the destroyed dagger. Yet, with Belle and his son in his life he felt no bitterness towards using his cane once more.

Mother Superior, who had slept with her wand under her pillow, was dismayed to find that it no longer worked. Her attempt to make her bed with a flick of the wand had failed, but for the sake of nostalgia, she decided to display the useless object on a shelve.

Not everyone chose to keep their once-enchanted objects close by. The magic hat no longer held any magic, and Jefferson was well aware that the world possessed no magic on its own. As soon as Grace awoke, he enlisted his daughter's help to preform a funeral of-sorts. Together they buried the hat in its box at the base of a tree, burying his past along with it as he silently remembered those who had lost their lives because of the magical top hat. It wasn't magical anymore. There was _no_ magic anymore—he could feel the absence of it on his skin and in the air when he took it into his lungs.

Apparently, Emma had broken the spell that Rumpelstiltskin had unleashed on the town.

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Emma woke-up early despite having gone to bed so late. She left her room while Henry was still asleep and found that her other housemates were in the kitchen. Emma sat down on a bar stool as she told them everything—everything about Baelfire and Rumpelstiltskin and her concerns about what would happen to Storybrooke now. Snow White and Prince James listened as she talked. They were all aware that town meetings would need to be had and a new mayor would need to be appointed. It was exhausting just thinking about the mess that magic had left behind. Sensing her daughter's distress, Snow White had brewed-up some hot chocolate and set a cup of it in front of Emma. The smell of chocolate mixed with cinnamon wafted-up to her nose and it made her smile.

"Thanks, M."

Snow—who had turned to make herself a cup of hot chocolate—froze.

"M?" she questioned, curiously, as she turned to face her daughter.

Prince James—who was sitting beside Emma at the bar—glanced between the two women.

"Uh, yeah," Emma said with a visible wince, "It's the best I can do. I honestly can't call you _Snow White_ and keep a straight face."

Snow gave a sigh and then shrugged her shoulders.

"Fair enough," she said, "So, it's _M_ for Mary Margaret?"

Emma swallowed and stared down at her hot chocolate before giving her reply.

"Or, it's M for mom..."

Snow White's heart started in her chest at the word "mom" and she stared at her daughter, tempted to pull her across the counter and into a hug. Emma glanced up at M and the two women shared a sweet smile in place of the hug Snow White wanted to share. Prince James cleared his throat then, feeling a little left out, and Emma's head turned in his direction.

"So, does that mean that I'm _D_?" he asked with a charming smile, "D for David and D for dad?"

Emma smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I figured it was a good compromise. I mean—I'm definitely not calling you _Charming_."

The Prince smiled at his daughter.

"I like _M _and_ D_," he said, "It's very...minimalistic."

Emma turned back to her cup of hot chocolate while a smile was still on her face. Sure, it was weird knowing that her parents were Snow White and Prince Charming, but somehow, she felt more at home with them than she ever had with anyone in her life.

"So," Snow White began as she leaned one hand against the counter while her other held a cup of hot chocolate, "What's on the agenda for today? I guess life's going to be pretty boring for you now that magic's not around to keep you on your toes."

Emma scoffed at that.

"Believe me," she said, "I could use a little boring."

"You mean you won't even miss crusading around with the Mad Hatter?"

A hot flush of blood rushed to Emma's cheeks and she nearly choked on her hot chocolate. Snow White smiled in spite of herself as she examined her daughter's flustered face. She didn't approve, of course, but it hadn't stopped her ffrom noticing Emma's affections for the man. _It was probably some form Stockholm syndrome... _Emma opened her mouth to defend herself.

"I smell hot chocolate!" Henry called as he skipped into the room and sat on the bar stool next to Emma.

"Yes, and I will make you some." Snow replied with a smile before she went in search of another cup.

Emma sighed in relief, thankful that Henry's presence had changed the subject, but still the awkwardness lingered. Suddenly, Emma decided that she didn't want to be stuck inside the apartment all day.

"Hey, kid? I was thinking about going down to the station to relieve August of my duties. Want to come?"

Henry made a face as he looked up at his mom.

"Nah. I think I'll stay here."

Emma raised an eyebrow.

"What ever happened to "where you go—I go"?"

Henry glanced around her so he could see the Prince.

"Well," he began, "James said that he'd teach me sword fighting and I thought that today would be a good day for that."

Emma shot a look at her father.

"Sword fighting? Really?"

James smiled.

"Don't worry. The swords are plastic."

Emma leaned back on her stool and glanced between the two _boys_. She didn't know whether it was cute or just slightly annoying that D wanted to teach Henry how to sword fight. It wasn't exactly a skill that the kid would be needing. Emma shrugged her shoulders.

"Whatever—just make sure you explain that sword fighting **isn't** an activity for school."

"Duh!" Henry responded before taking a sip of the hot chocolate Snow White had handed him.

"Only if there's bullies." Prince James joked.

"Bullies?" Snow White scoffed at the word and put her hands on her hips, "I don't allow bullying in my class!"

Emma took in a deep breath as she watched her family bicker and tease each other about bullies and sword fighting. The sight of it made her feel warm inside. It was nice to finally have a family, and suddenly, she looked forward to Holidays and sharing meals at the table. It was something she hadn't experienced much of in her life. Emma walked towards the door then and reached for her jacket, but she paused before heading outside.

"Thanks M and D," she said as she looked between her parents, "Thanks for giving me my best chance."

Prince James smiled at his daughter and nodded his head in response. Snow White took-in a shuddering breath at Emma's words and the happy smile that formed on her face threatened to cause tears to spill from her eyes. Emma swallowed down her own feelings at seeing the emotions on her parents faces. She smiled back at them, and then turned her gaze on Henry. The boy was smiling as he glanced around at the adults in the room—no doubt pleased with himself that he had managed to bring this family together. Emma shook her head as she remembered the first time Henry had told her that her mom was Snow White. Emma gave a laugh.

"See you later, kid. And go easy on the old man, will ya? He's probably a little rusty with the sword."

Emma flashed a parting grin to Prince James and Snow White before she headed out the door. She was glad to know that, from now on, she had a home and a family to return to, but she was also thankful to have a job she could escape to.

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Jefferson had seen the front of this home through his telescope many times, but he had never come this close to it. He held his breath as he watched Grace knock on the door of her own home—her _other_ home. It didn't take long before a familiar man and woman—their old neighbors—answered the door.

"Pai—Grace!" the woman cried as she quickly embraced _his_ daughter in a tight hug.

The man hugged her as well and the three of them enjoyed a little family reunion as Jefferson stayed back. His jaw clenched when his old neighbors finally acknowledged him—recognition brightening their faces.

"Jefferson!" the man feigned his surprise, "We—we had thought you were dead."

Jefferson's eyes met Grace's at the word "dead". He hadn't been aware that that was what they had thought. Then again, it was a more viable theory than "trapped in Wonderland". Jefferson forced a smile.

"I may as well have been," he replied, "Because nothing within my control would keep me from my daughter."

The man and woman gulped in unison detecting the hostility in his words. Grace, however—knowing just how hard this was for him—smiled at her father before glancing up at her other parents.

"Papa says I can stay with you."

"For the night," Jefferson begrudgingly corrected, "Grace wants to discuss her wishes—as far as living arrangements go—and then, we can come to some kind of agreement."

Jefferson's jaw clenched a little tighter from having to discuss the future of his daughter as if she were a bargaining tool. He wasn't keen on the idea of sharing her, but these people had always been so good to the both of them. And, when it came right down to it, they had been Grace's parents for longer than he had—28 years to his measly 10. Still, it didn't change the fact that _he_ was her _real_ father.

"That's very generous of you." Mister Slick replied.

Jefferson glared.

"Generous has nothing to do with it. You're as much family to Grace as I am."

Grace frowned at her fathers words, sensing his sadness, and she crossed the distance between them so she could hug him.

"Papa, I love you." she said as if he needed reminding.

Jefferson shut his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you too," he replied before gripping her shoulders to push her out of the hug, "And I'll be here to pick you up tomorrow."

Jefferson stared at Mister and Misses Slick for a moment and he reiterated the word "tomorrow" to ensure they didn't get any ideas about keeping Grace for longer. The man and woman nodded their understanding and Jefferson shared a smile with his daughter before turning to leave. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked home, making a promise with himself not to use the telescope for this one night Grace was away. In fact, he decided to get rid of the telescopes all together. There was no point watching life from afar when he now had every opportunity to be an active participant in it.

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* * *

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A brown envelope was leaning-up against the glass doors as Emma approached the Sheriff's Department. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand, finding that her name was written in cursive at the top of it while it was sealed by a sticker that said "confidential". Her brow furrowed curiously and she clutched the envelope in the crook of her arm as she walked inside the Sheriff's Department, wondering what was inside of it and who who had sent it. Emma opened the door into the main part of the office, then. She was very tempted to open the envelope, but she imagined it would be best to do it alone. And, first things first, she had to see—

"August!" Emma gasped as she saw a very real and not wooden August sitting behind her desk, "You're—You're _you_ again!"

August smiled and stood-up from behind the desk.

"Yep," he replied as he _spread out his arms in a_ dramatic display, "I'm me."

"But, how? I thought the blue fairy couldn't change you back without her wand?"

August shrugged as he strolled towards her.

"Rumor has it that someone helped her get her wand back," August said as he handed Emma her keys and her badge, "Perfect timing, too. If they would have waited another day—I'd be an inanimate object right now."

Emma gaped at him as she took the items from his hand. She hadn't considered how the absence of magic might of resulted in the absence of August. And even then, she didn't think much on it—she was more concerned with _who_ had found the Blue Fairy's wand.

"_Someone_?" she questioned.

August sighed and then gave her a sharp look.

"From what I've heard, Emma—I think you would know better than anyone who might have the ability to retrieve a magic wand."

He gave a meaningful tilt of his head as he looked at her, but Emma continued to wear her confused expression. She couldn't believe what he was saying. _He couldn't possibly mean Jefferson—could he?_

August gave another sigh and then walked passed her, "I guess I owe him a beer."

Emma spun around just in time to see him head for the door.

"Hey!" she called and he stopped, "Where are you going? I just got here."

August smirked as he turned around to face her.

"And it seems like you have some business to attend to," he said as he nodded to the envelope she was holding, "I'll leave you to it."

He turned to walk away then and Emma stepped forward to go after him.

"August, wait!"

He stopped abruptly and sighed once more before slowly turning around. Emma smiled at him.

"Thanks for helping out," she spoke sincerely, "And hey, if you're interested, I could always use a deputy."

August smiled and took a step back until his back was pressed against the door.

"Ah, but you forget," he began, "I'm a writer and writer's need to travel—not be chained to a desk in a small town."

His smile spread into a grin as he took another step back, pushing the door open.

"I'll see you around, Emma."

Emma stared at him for a moment before nodding her goodbye and she thought about what he said about "writer's needing to travel". She wondered briefly if he'd be leaving, but she knew if he did it wouldn't be for long. August, like herself, had roots in Storybrooke—had family—and she knew he wouldn't leave that behind for long. Emma turned her attention to the envelope she was clutching and walked over to her desk, deciding to sit down before opening it.

Just the other day she would have hesitated to open such an envelope, fearing it might contain some magical malevolence, but now, there was no magic. Emma quickly tore the "confidential" seal and spilled the contents of the envelope out onto her desk. Her lips parted as she stared at the documents that had fallen out and she scanned through them. The documents were a bunch of political malarkey—referring to Henry and herself—and none of it made much sense until she came across a page that was highly recognizable. It was a birth certificate. Emma's heart pounded in her chest as she held a certified copy of Henry's birth certificate in her hands. She noted that her own name was on the certificate along with her signature as the "parent/informant" and she wondered at how this was possible. _How could this be? _Her breathing had become accelerated as she rummaged through the papers, looking for something that would confirm that it was all _real_. What she found was a smaller piece of paper with an elegant border and a letter written in cursive. Emma read the short letter.

_Every world has its own rules—this world, especially. Luckily, there was enough magic in Storybrooke to bend those rules, and now Henry is legally yours. Emma, I can't undo the things I've done or take back the ways I've wronged you. I nearly caused you to lose your son—a child that this world didn't recognize as your own. I've experienced that, myself. I'm not asking for forgiveness, Emma. I just wanted you to have what you deserve—your child. _

_Best regards,_

_Jefferson_

Emma swallowed at the words she had just read, and then her eyes instinctively raised to the open blinds that were covering the windows. She remembered being inside Jefferson's home and spying through the telescope that was pointed at her office. As her eyes roamed over the landscape outside the windows—she wondered if he was watching her right then, and she realized she didn't care if he was. She glanced over the papers again, realizing how much trouble Jefferson had saved her. No lawyers. No repeatedly rescheduled court dates. No spending money she didn't have. Jefferson had saved her a lot of hassle, and now, she knew that he was—at least—partially responsible for saving August. Emma took-in a jagged breath and wiped-away a little wetness from her eyes. Jefferson was right. He couldn't undo the things he had done, but suddenly, Emma believed that Jefferson had the potential to repair them...


	18. The Princess and the Court Jester

**A/N: This is it folks—the last chapter.**

**Special thanks to **golds laugh** for working to translate this story into Polish! Dziękuję, jesteś super! (I "googled" that) **

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**And thank you to everyone who has been reading this story! I hope you've enjoyed at least some of it as I've enjoyed writing it.  
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Chapter 18: The Princess and the Court Jester

One week had passed since the Dark One's dagger had been destroyed and the people of Storybrooke were still coming to terms with the fact that there was no magic that could get them back home. Some were satisfied to stay in this magic-less world, while others were not. And then, there were some who were more concerned with "interpersonal" issues...

Emma Swan stood on Jefferson's porch, her fist raised to knock on the door, but she hesitated. Memories of drugged tea and scarfs and hats and a gun pointed in her face raced through her mind. It was only the house that brought back those memories. There were more recent memories that came to her mind whenever she thought of Jefferson... Emma shut her eyes as she took a deep calming breath, and suddenly, the door in front of her opened. Jefferson stood there in the doorway wearing his usual scarf and his dark layers of clothing.

"Emma." he breathed, sounding surprised as his eyes fixed on hers.

At the sight of him, Emma was temporarily rendered speechless. She stared at him dumbly as she tried to remember the words she had come to say. Days ago, she had meant to acknowledge what he'd done for her, but her job had continued to get in the way. Finally, _something_ about today had brought her to Jefferson's house. Whatever it was, Emma had put-off thanking him for long enough.

Emma took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes as she said, "I just wanted to thank you for—"

Jefferson quickly raised-up a hand, silencing her.

"You don't need to thank me, Emma. If it wasn't for you—if you hadn't broken the curse—I wouldn't have gotten Grace back," Jefferson paused to give her a smile, "I should be thanking you...daily."

Emma swallowed as she stared at him and the smile he wore caused her heart to pound.

"I—"

"Emma," Jefferson sighed her name as he gave her a bored look, "Will you just come inside? We're far too _acquainted_ to be having a conversation on my porch."

Emma winced at the way he said the word "acquainted" and it involuntarily brought up the memory of his lips pressing against her own. It made her pulse quicken and her skin flush. Jefferson smirked upon noticing.

"I promise not to make any tea. I won't so much as offer you a glass of water."

Emma rolled her eyes at his words, but she couldn't help but find it sort-of charming.

"Thanks," she spoke sardonically as she walked passed him, "That's very reassuring."

A smug smile formed on Jefferson's face as he closed the door behind her. Emma glanced around at the familiar surroundings as she walked further into his house. The living room had changed since she had last been inside of it. There was evidence spread throughout the room that a child lived there, now. A stuffed rabbit was on the couch, a framed drawing sat on the mantle above the fireplace and a small brightly colored jacket hung from the coat rack. Emma relaxed a little at the sight of those small details. They obviously belonged to Grace. Emma stopped as she was suddenly reminded of another reason she had come.

"There was something I wanted to ask you," she confessed as she turned around only to find him standing right before her.

Her heart started to find herself face to face with him—his intense, blue eyes examining her carefully.

"Yes?" he asked as a watched her with interest.

"I, uh, I wanted to ask you something about that day—the day you went to the Blue Fairy."

"What about it?"

"Well," Emma began, "You once said that you didn't want Grace to have two lives in her head, so why didn't you wish for the Blue Fairy to make her forget? Why didn't you wish to have custody of her, like you wished it for me?"

Jefferson sighed—it was a heavy sigh that seemed to cause his entire body to deflate.

"Because," he replied, "Grace loves them, and—in spite of my resentment towards them—they're good people."

Emma gazed up at him, noticing the torment that was clearly etched in his expression at the mention of Grace's _other_ parents. It made Emma's heart ache for him, and yet, at the same time, she admired him for not using magic to solve his problems. She was tempted to tell him that she was proud, but she didn't want to come-off as patronizing. Emma glanced around the room, trying to think of an appropriate response, but instead she noticed that there was an object clearly missing from the room. Emma brushed passed him as she walked towards the windows.

"Where's your telescope?"

Jefferson strolled over to where she stood.

"Why?" he asked bitterly, "Are you worried you might need to _use_ it again?"

Emma ignored that. She hadn't come to argue or to judge him. She had come to express her gratitude for how he had helped her get custody of her kid. Emma sighed as she pulled back the curtain from the window and peered outside.

"Jefferson—I want to try to be friends."

The word "friends" hung silently in the air for a moment because it wasn't that easy for Emma to say and because it came as a shock to Jefferson. Emma kept her attention at the window until she felt him move up behind her, feeling his clothes brush against her back.

"_Just_ friends?" he whispered into her ear as his cheek pressed against her hair.

Emma shivered as his hands slowly slid down her arms and her body betrayed her by leaning into him. Jefferson sighed into her hair as if he were relieved—as if he had succeeded at something. Emma quickly pulled away.

"Yes," she answered as she turned around, "Friends. And _that _is already a stretch for me, considering the things you've done. But I've also considered _why_ you did them, Jefferson. I know it was all for your kid, and honestly, I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same for Henry."

"So—you forgive me?"

Emma made a face and her eyes darted to the ground.

"Hardly," she replied before meeting his gaze again, "But I can try."

Jefferson's brow furrowed at her words and he moved backwards until he was half-leaning, half-sitting on the back of the couch.

"That sounds familiar," he noted as he gave her a wry smile, "The last time you told me that you'd "try"—you swung a telescope at my head."

"That was different," she quickly defended as she moved towards him, "You were asking me to try something impossible, but forgiving you—Well, I'd say that's closer to the realm of possibility. I want to forgive you, Jefferson. I think my heart already has, but my brain has some catching-up to do."

A smile tugged at Jefferson's lips as he suddenly got it in his mind to help her brain catch-up. He stood to his feet then, so that he could cross the short distance between them. Before Emma could protest, he took her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was soft but strong and it nearly made Emma's knees give out. A quiet moan came from her throat as she kissed him back, slipping her hands between them and running her fingers over the buttons of his waistcoat. Jefferson sighed contentedly at her acceptance and then moved his hands to grip the tops of her arms. He kissed her softly once more before pulling away.

"Well," he breathed the word as he pressed his forehead to hers, "I'd say that "just friends" is slightly outside the the realm of possibility for us."

Emma sighed in defeat and dropped her forehead on his shoulder as her hands gripped at his clothes.

"Why do I have such terrible taste in men?" she asked as she buried her face against his chest, "They're either married or crazy."

Jefferson raised an eyebrow at the word "married", but he decided that that would be a story for another time. With his hands still gripping the tops of her arms, he pushed her away so he could look into her eyes.

"I'm not crazy," he told her as he held her gaze, "I have been pushed to madness—but that's different. Emma, I think the real reason you won't accept how you feel about me is because you're worried what other people will think. It's because of Snow, isn't it? It's because your _parents_ don't approve."

Emma scoffed at him.

"You say that like I come from some well-to-do family that still believes in arranged marriages!"

Jefferson raised an eyebrow and he gave her a knowing smile.

"Emma," he began, "That is precisely the kind of family you come from."

Emma let go of his waistcoat and her arms fell slack at her sides as she remembered just who her parents had once been. Of course, now, they were merely an elementary school teacher and well—maybe not so insignificantly—a mayor. The mayoral succession had fallen to the sheriff, but Emma had no more wanted to be a part of that than she wanted to be thought of as a member of a royal family.

"Oh," was all she could respond with.

Jefferson gave a laugh and raised a hand to her face, brushing his thumb across her cheek.

"Of course, I don't believe Snow and James would have forced you into an arranged marriage. Still—they would have wanted more for you than some traveling magician," Jefferson smirked at her and then removed his hand from her face, "That would have been the about equivalent of the Princess dating the Court Jester."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"I am _no_ princess and this isn't some fairytale world, anyway. This is the real world."

"_A _real world," he politely reminded her, "Just because there's no magic left in this one—just because we can't reach the others—doesn't mean that other worlds don't still exist."

Emma sighed at the mention of "other worlds". She had hoped never to hear about them again—or at least not so soon. Emma walked away from Jefferson and around to the couch. She sat down on the very spot she had once woke up on—mouth gagged, wrists and ankles bound—and somehow, it didn't affect her. And despite all that Jefferson had done and despite what he thought, Emma was not ashamed of him.

"My parents approving or disapproving has nothing to do with it," she admitted as Jefferson rounded the couch to sit next to her , "We both just got our kids back. Don't you think that we should be focusing on them instead of starting a relationship—a very, VERY complicated relationship?"

Jefferson's eyes averted to the carpet as a grin formed on his face. He placed his arm along the back of the couch then, so he could lean-in closer to her.

"Grace will always be my first priority, Emma," he said as he looked deeply into her eyes, "As Henry will always be yours. You say that our relationship would a complicated one, but honestly Emma, who better than _me_ would understand the devotion you have for your child? How many other men would be willing to come second in your life to boy that isn't even theirs?"

Emma tore her eyes from his gaze to stare at the coffee table that was in front of her knees. She had learned from some of the foster parents she'd been placed with—the ones who had children of their own—how the fathers often showed a difference. Some of the men had outright resented the idea of raising a child that was not their own. Never-the-less, she didn't particularly like being told that she'd have trouble keeping relationships because of Henry. Hell, who was she kidding, she never had been very good at keeping relationships anyway. Jefferson's hand brushed a strand of hair from her face then, and it coaxed her to look at him.

"It would be different with me, Emma," he told her as if he had heard her thoughts, "Our relationship would be one of understanding."

Emma gave a sigh and leaned back into the couch until she could feel his reclining arm behind her shoulders.

"I don't exactly have the best track record with relationships."

Jefferson's arm wrapped around her, pulling her snug against his side before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Neither do I," he admitted.

And the two of them sat together in silence as they wondered about each other's pasts and the secrets they had yet to tell one another. Jefferson had lost his parents and his wife and nearly his child—he was half convinced that he was a plague on relationships. Emma, on the other hand, had always been afraid of opening up—she had been afraid of getting hurt, but her time in Storybrooke had changed all that. The only thing that stood in her way, now, was that still small voice in her head that told her to "beware".

Emma ignored it as she turned in to Jefferson, sliding her hand up over his chest to the scarf around his neck. She dipped her fingers beneath the scarf, brushing her finger tips across the scar that was hidden there as she watched his face for a reaction. Jefferson didn't so much as flinch. His eyes searched hers, unblinkingly, as she touched the permanent reminder on his neck—the scar that represented the magical maddening world he had once been trapped in.

Emma tore her eyes from his gaze as she examined his neck, and a heart beat later, she leaned-in and pressed a kiss to his scar. Jefferson's breathing hitched at the action—not so much from feeling her mouth against his neck as it was from what the kiss meant. It was acceptance. It was acceptance of the horrible beheading scar, and if Emma could accept something as impossible as _that_—she could accept him.

Jefferson practically pulled her on to his lap, wrapping a arm around her waist while his free hand tangled in her hair. The kiss was everything Emma expected one of his kisses to be—frantic and hot with skilled lips and steady hands. Her hands absentmindedly touched the buttons of his waistcoat as they made-out on his couch. Feeling the layers of clothes that separated them, a question arose in Emma's mind and she pushed herself away.

"Jefferson," she panted, breathless from kissing, "What's up with your wardrobe and all these layers of buttons? I mean—really?"

Jefferson's heavy-lidded eyes glanced down at himself, examining the vest that covered his button down shirt. He shrugged and then sent Emma a curious look.

"Why—What's wrong with it?"

"Don't you ever get tired of buttoning and unbuttoning so many buttons everyday?"

Jefferson huffed-out a laugh.

"Honestly? No. My hands are always happy to be at work on something."

Jefferson proved that by slipping a warm hand beneath the tail of her shirt as he leaned-in to resume what she had interrupted. Emma pushed him away.

"But don't you think it's really inconvenient and frustrating when your getting all hot and heavy and you want to—"

Emma paused as she caught sight of the mischievous smile forming on his face.

"In that case, Princess—You're more than welcome to rip them off," he said before pressing a kiss just below her ear and whispering, "I can always resew the buttons later."

Emma shivered—not so much from the permission to rip-off his clothes as it was from feeling his mouth against her neck. She leaned in to him and wrapped her arms around him as his kisses moved up to her jaw before again meeting her lips. His hands were warm against her back as they slipped beneath her shirt and she was tempted to unwrap her arms and start undoing those buttons. Suddenly, the sound of a door being pushed open allowed the sound of chattering voices to fill their ears.

"Papa?"

Emma quickly removed herself from Jefferson's lap and stood to her feet, smoothing-out her hair and clothes in a frenzied attempt to fix herself. Jefferson remained cool and collected on the couch—neither surprised nor caring that his hair stood-up a little taller than usually thanks to Emma's excitement.

Two children walked into the living room then—one, was a blonde-haired girl, and the other, was a brown-haired boy.

"Emma?" Henry questioned in confusion as he glanced between his mom and Jefferson.

His nose crinkled a little as he noticed their disheveled appearances.

"Henry—what are you doing here? You should be at—" Emma paused as she glanced around the room, looking for a clock, but she didn't see one and she wasn't wearing one.

She grabbed for Jefferson's wrist and he stood to his feet so she could more easily read his watch. Her eyes widened.

"School's over already?"

Emma gaped at Jefferson. She was surprised at how quickly the time had flown while she was with him, but he didn't look surprised at all.

"Yeah," Henry said, "And don't you remember? I told you that me and Grace have a project for school. You said it was okay to come over here."

Emma pressed a hand to her forehead at the reminder and gave a frustrated sigh. She had totally forgotten, and yet, on some unconscious level she _had_ remembered something about "going to Jefferson's house"—she just hadn't remembered that it was supposed to be _Henry_ going and **not** her.

"Oh, right."

Henry gave her a confused look.

"Why are _you_ here?"

Emma gulped at Henry's question and Jefferson placed a calming hand at her back.

"We were discussing the possibility of you and Emma moving-in with Grace and I."

Emma's mouth fell open and she shot Jefferson a dark look.

"That would be great, papa!"

"Yeah!" Henry agreed to Emma's semi-horror.

"So how about it, Emma? You haven't given me your answer yet."

Her eyes narrowed at him and his stupid mischievous smile. She felt pressured from feeling the children watch her with eager anticipation.

"I don't know," she grumbled as she glared at Jefferson, "I haven't had much _time_ to think about it."

Jefferson's smile widened—it was precisely why he had put her on the spot. He didn't want her to think too much about it.

"We have plenty of rooms. You and Henry could have two each, if you'd like. And—some of the bedrooms even have locks on the doors."

Jefferson winked at Emma and it only irritated her more.

"I—"

"You can't live with your parents forever, Emma," Jefferson teased, "I mean—that apartment was small enough when it was just you and Snow, and now..."

_It was just cramped and awkward._ Emma scowled as she thought about it.

"I could have my own room again," Henry spoke, wistfully.

"And I know the perfect one for you!" Grace exclaimed, "Follow me and I'll show you!"

Emma huffed-out a breath in disbelief as she turned to watch the children leave the room. It seemed she didn't have much of a choice—Grace had practically already moved them in. She felt Jefferson come up behind her then and she spun around to find him standing before her in that too-close way of his.

"Did you plan this?" she asked as she scowled-up at him.

Jefferson gave her a bored look.

"How could I have possibly planned for you to show-up on my doorstep?"

Emma glanced away from him as she considered that and Jefferson lifted her chin with a finger, coaxing her to meet his gaze.

"Come on, Princess, just say that you'll move in—what do you have to lose?"

Emma shot him a look.

"You're the one who's gonna lose something if you keep calling me Princess."

Jefferson laughed and it was the most lighthearted laugh Emma had ever heard from him. She smiled in spite of herself and decided that—maybe—the new nickname wasn't so bad after all. Jefferson took another step towards her until she could feel those buttons of his brush the front of her shirt. He placed his hands at her waist and pulled her against him, obliterating any space between them.

"So, what's it going to be, Emma?" he asked as he gazed down at her with hope in his eyes "Will you continue to live with Snow and James in that tiny apartment—or, will you take a leap down the rabbit hole and come live with me?"

Emma stared up at him—her eyes dancing over his face as she considered his words. There had been times, while she was in Storybrooke, that she had felt a bit like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole, but never more than she did in that moment. Her heart pounded in anticipation and her thoughts raced with "what ifs" as she opened her mouth to speak...

"Promise I won't go mad?"

A surprised smile spread across Jefferson's face as he carefully examined Emma.

"No," he replied as he placed a hand at the back of her neck, "I have every intention of driving you completely and utterly crazy."

Jefferson kissed her then, and their hands clung to one another in a desperate embrace. It was wonderful. It was exciting. It was maddening—and some would argue that there was no better way for love to be. For the kind of love that could drive you mad was better than any dull-as-dishwater "happily ever after", and Emma and Jefferson's love-story would be anything but dull. They would have moments that were happy and they would have moments that were unhappy. But they had learned enough about the value of a moment to know that the unhappy ones could make the happy ones all the more sweet.


End file.
